


about a burning fire

by trishapocalypse



Series: i thought about the fire in the sky [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Boy Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, fluff. there's fluff., louis' the bad guy and idfc so don't read it if it's going to offend your delicate sensibilities, some cute stuff? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Harry didn’t exactly remember what happened. </i>
</p><p>
  <i>One minute he was with Louis and Niall, fucking around and trying to fix Louis’ piece of shit car because Niall actually thought he knew something about the way an engine worked (and he kind of did), and the next, he was in a cold hospital room. The only thing he could remember was screaming, heat, and…that was really it.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Or: Harry's in an accident and Zayn picks up the pieces.</p>
            </blockquote>





	about a burning fire

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so about three weeks ago, my coworker's nephew was in an accident much like Harry's in this story, so. You can see my inspiration. Basically... I don't know what this is. It's quite angsty, so if that will upset you, don't read it. Also, as in the tags, Louis' the bad guy; because there has to be a bad guy and I chose him. So if you're Louis-obsessed and reading it for any Larry, turn back now, because it's slight and he's the bad guy, so I don't want to offend your delicate sensibilities. 
> 
> Continuing on. I wrote half of this while on the beach here in Florida on my vacation. (Yay.) This is dedicated to my lovely Frida, my little angelface who held my hand and assured me that this wasn't entirely godawful. So, if you see any mistakes, let me know, I'm attempting to beta this during lunch on the beach (I just like saying I'm on the beach). Anyway. I love you all. Bless.
> 
> tumblr: @trishanthemum :)

Harry didn’t exactly remember what happened. 

One minute he was with Louis and Niall, fucking around and trying to fix Louis’ piece of shit car because Niall actually thought he knew something about the way an engine worked (and he kind of did), and the next, he was in a cold hospital room. The only thing he could remember was screaming, heat, and…that was really it.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open slowly, adjusting to the darkness in the room, and he guessed it must’ve been nighttime or early morning or something. His arm felt heavy, his entire right side, and as he turned his head towards the window, he cried out. His eyes flew open and he looked at his arm, his bare chest, and something was _wrong._ He fumbled on the side of the bed, fingertips coming into contact with some buttons and he pressed whichever one he could reach. He cringed when the bed moved and he quickly pressed a different button, hearing a beeping sound and he prayed that it would alert a nurse or a doctor or _something._

He squeezed his eyes shut as he was met with a searing pain. His hands clenched into fists and he cried out again, immediately releasing the tension from his right hand. He gripped the bed sheet lightly, feeling it scratch at his palm, and he groaned. He reached up with his left hand, pushing his curls off of his forehead, and he bit his lip as he felt tears prick behind his eyelids. Harry sniffled and rubbed at his eye with the back of his hands and he cried out again. He looked down at his hands, one pale and smooth with calloused fingertips and the other red and raw and angry, skin peeling and puckered and—fuck, what had even _happened?_

“You’re awake!”

Harry rubbed at his nose and nodded slowly. “Who are you?”

“I’m Liam, I’m your nurse,” the boy told him, and he stepped closer to the bed.

Harry could make out big brown eyes, a kind smile, and strong hands as he reached for Harry’s left wrist to take his pulse. “You’re not a girl.”

Liam laughed softly. “I’m not,” he said with a definitive nod. “Haven’t been in almost twenty years.”

“Not since the surgery?” Harry offered with a pathetically small smile and, wow, it wasn’t even _funny._ He really needed to learn how to shut up. 

“I see the accident hasn’t affected your sense of humor.”

“Do I know you?”

Liam paused and shook his head. “No, but your friends seems to think you’re quite funny.”

“My friends? Is Louis here? Niall, too?”

“They’re getting coffee now,” Liam told him. “They’ll be here soon.”

“How do you know that?” Harry asked.

Liam shrugged. “It’s nearly sunrise. They’re here every morning. Niall’s very friendly.”

“How long have I been here? What happened?” Harry asked, lifting his hand up again and he hissed in pain. “Fuck.”

“Rest,” Liam told him, gently reaching for his arm and setting it down on the bed. “What’s your date of birth?”

Harry frowned. “My what?”

“I have to make sure you’re coherent.”

“I’m coherent.”

Liam smiled softly. “What’s your date of birth?” he repeated.

Harry sighed. “February first, ninety-four.”

“Wonderful,” he said with a big smile.

“What happened?” Harry repeated.

“Do you want any pain medication?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I want to know what happened,” he said softly. “Why do I look like I’ve been…burned alive?” he asked, nodding down towards his hand, where the peeling skin was extending all the way up his arm.

“You…were caught on fire, I suppose,” Liam told him. He hesitated before taking a step back and sitting down at the edge of the bed, far enough away as not to discomfort Harry. “You were fixing your friend’s car. The engine stalled as you were pouring liquid—I don’t understand the technicalities, but your arm caught on fire, extending up towards your neck, and you were rushed here,” he explained.

“Louis’ car,” Harry whispered, his head falling back against the pillow. He cringed again, the burning sensation returning to his neck, and he felt his eyes start to tear up again. 

Liam nodded. “You have third degree burns on your hand, arm, and the side of your neck—“

Harry reached up towards his neck, but Liam grabbed his hand first.

“It’ll make it worse.”

“It looks horrible, doesn’t it?” Harry asked quietly.

“It looks like it needs time to heal,” Liam told him. 

Harry sighed and nodded slowly, any other movement causes the skin to tighten across his neck and he was in enough pain already. “How long do I have to stay here?”

“The doctor will be in later to assess the damage. Now that you’re awake, it’ll be easier to determine whether or not your need skin grafts—“

“I don’t want skin grafts,” Harry muttered. 

Liam nodded. “That’s an option as well. For now, you just need to rest.”

“Okay. Can I have that pain medication now?” he asked with a small pout.

“Of course,” Liam told him, standing up and pressing a few buttons on the machine next to him, the one that was hooked up to his IV. “I’ll let your friends know that you’re awake.”

“Is Louis mad at me?” Harry asked. He could hear the liquid bubbling in the machine but he knew it was all in his head when he felt his veins run cold. It only took a few seconds before he sunk back further into the hard mattress, and he pulled the blanket a little further over his chest, making sure his right arm was free of the rough fabric. He was already feeling light-headed, tired, and he just missed Louis.

“Why would he be mad at you?” Liam asked softly.

Harry sighed, his head feeling light. “Because I’m ugly now.”

 

+

 

Liam shut the door quietly behind him once he was sure that Harry was actually asleep. He fumbled with his chart, placing it in the cubby attached to the wall, and he walked back to the nurse’s station. He sat down and ran his hands over his short hair, rolling his eyes wen he heard the shrill ringing of the phone. 

Perrie glanced over at him, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I got it,” she told him, answering the call before putting them on hold. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Liam said with a nod. “Is Dr. Grimshaw here yet?”

Perrie nodded. “Yeah, he’ll be up in a few. Gonna check on the burn patient?”

“Just did,” he said. “He’s…doing okay. As good as expected.”

The nurse’s light started blinking and Perrie sighed. “Can you take the call for me? It’s a pharmacy verifying a script.”

“Of course,” Liam told her, picking up the call as Perrie walked away. Once he finished with the call, he looked up to see Zayn standing in front of him, two coffees in hand. “My hero.”

Zayn smiled, handing his best friend a coffee before tugging his beanie off, setting it on the counter. “You’re the hero, mate. You work at six every day. Normal people don’t do that.”

Liam laughed, taking a sip of his coffee. “You work early today?”

Zayn groaned. “Yeah, at eight,” he told him, glancing at the clock on the wall. 

“Meet up for drinks after?” Liam asked.

“Of course—“

Liam froze when the nurse’s light went off and he saw it was for Harry’s room. “Shit, it’s Harry—“

“Who? I thought you called them Patient 4 or Patient 12?” Zayn asked with a laugh.

“The burn victim,” Liam told him.

“He’s awake? He’s been unconscious for three days.”

Liam nodded. “Yeah, I gotta—“

“No, go, go,” Zayn told him. “I’ll ring you after work.”

Liam sent Zayn a smile before taking off towards Harry’s room. He opened the door slowly and walked in, seeing Harry sitting up in bed, green eyes wide and filled with tears. “How can I help?”

Harry sniffled. “It hurts. And I want Louis. Where’s Louis? He’s my boyfriend, he’s supposed to be here,” he said quietly.

“He will be,” Liam assured him. “And the doctor will be here any minute. Can I get you some water?”

Harry nodded. “Are you allowed?”

Liam laughed softly. “Of course. It’s my job.”

“Please?”

“I’ll be right back.” He made his way towards the ice machine, filling up a pitcher with ice before getting Harry a cup of water. As he made his way back towards the room, he saw Harry’s friend, Niall, his bright blond hair easy to catch. “He’s awake.”

Niall paused at the door, blue eyes wide. “He is? That’s—shit, I gotta call Lou,” he said, fumbling for his mobile in his pocket.

“Isn’t he normally with you?”

Niall shrugged. “He was _tired_ this morning,” he told him with an eye roll. He hesitated with his mobile before looking up at Liam. “Is he… Is he okay?”

Liam nodded slowly. “He will be.”

“Can I see him?”

“Of course,” Liam told him, motioning for Niall to follow him into Harry’s room. He smiled softly, setting the cup of ice water down on Harry’s tray, next to his pitcher of ice. “Guess who’s here?”

“Louis?”

“It’s me, you wanker,” Niall said with a laugh, rushing to Harry’s side to press his lips messily against his cheek. “You look brilliant.”

Harry smiled. “Don’t take the piss.”

“You do! I’m offended you would think that I would lie to you,” Niall told him with a grin, sitting down on the mattress next to him, but he was careful not to touch. 

“Where’s Lou?”

“He’s on his way,” Niall told him, digging his mobile out of his pocket and sending Louis a quick text. 

Harry nodded.

Liam shifted from foot to foot. He knew he had other patient’s he should’ve been with, but Harry was so young, barely younger than himself. “I’ll send the doctor in once he arrives. Is there anything else I can get you, Harry?”

“I’m here, Hazza will be fine,” Niall said with a laugh. “Right, Haz?”

Harry nodded again. “Thank you, Liam.” He waited until Liam had left the room before he turned to face Niall again. “Where’s Louis? Really?”

Niall sighed. “He should be here soon,” he told him. “I just texted him. Oh, here, I brought you your mobile charger,” he said, digging it out of his pocket and plugging it in. He got Harry’s mobile from his pile of clothes that were resting on the couch, plugging it in so it could charge.

“He’s sleeping, isn’t he?” Harry asked, his voice small.

Niall froze and let out a quiet sigh. “He’s been here every day. He’s just…”

“Tired?”

Niall nodded.

Harry sighed. “He works hard. He deserves to sleep in.”

“He’ll be here,” Niall assured him. “You’re more important to him than sleep.”

“If I was, then he would be here now,” Harry muttered.

Niall didn’t respond; there really wasn’t anything that he could say. There was a time when he would’ve sworn that Harry and Louis were _meant to be_ or something ridiculous. And that was probably before Louis spent two months trying to woo Harry, until Harry finally broke down and agreed to go out with him. That had been almost a year before and they were good together, but they weren’t _great_ together. And Niall always believed that Harry deserved the best; they had been friends for most of their lives, they were best mates, and Niall knew that Harry was a romantic, always waiting for a great love. And no matter how much Niall loved both Harry _and_ Louis, he knew that Louis wasn’t it; but he knew Harry was most loving person he knew, and he couldn’t bring himself to have _that talk_ with Harry. 

“How bad does it look?” 

“Hmm?”

Harry pointed towards his arm and the side of his neck. “Does it look horrible?”

Niall shook his head. “Nope.”

“Liar,” he accused with a soft smile. “Take a picture so I can see?”

“Okay,” Niall said after a minute of hesitation. He flipped his mobile over to the camera and took a picture of the side of Harry’s neck, the pink skin angry and peeling towards under his jaw and hairline. He showed it to Harry, who just shook his head.

“No wonder he isn’t here. I look like a monster,” he whispered sadly.

“No, you don’t,” Niall told him angrily.

Harry sucked is lower lip into his mouth, his eyes welling up with tears. “How do I not look like a monster, Ni? My flesh has fucking been burned off. My own boyfriend doesn’t want to see me!”

“Louis’ an idiot,” Niall snapped. “You’re _not_ a monster, Harry, and you don’t look like one. I don’t want to hear you say that ever again.”

Harry nodded slowly and allowed Niall to wrap an arm around his waist, mindful of his side, and hug him lightly. “Thanks for being here.”

“Of course. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Haz. I called off work for you, y’know,” he said with a teasing grin. 

Harry laughed before he froze. “Shit, my job, I—“

“You’re good,” Niall interrupted. “I filled out the forms for a medical leave.”

“But my rent—“

“Louis and I got it covered,” he told him. 

“You can’t afford to split my part of the rent with Lou, that isn’t fair—“

Niall shook his head. “We have it covered,” he repeated. “You just need to focus on getting better, okay?”

Harry sighed, his head falling to the side. He hissed in pain, the skin pulling tight, and he reached up to touch it, but he stopped himself. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Niall shrugged. “Kind of feel like it’s my fault?”

“It’s not,” Harry told him.

“But I—“

“It’s no one’s fault, it’s okay,” Harry said. “There’s no point blaming anyone, yeah? Won’t change what happened.”

Niall nodded. “Want breakfast? I’m going to go get something from the café.”

Harry smiled softly and shook his head. “No thanks. Don’t think I could keep anything down right now,” he admitted. 

“I’ll eat something for you,” Niall said with a grin. “Back in a mo, yeah?”

Harry watched as Niall left the room and he let out another sigh. He hurt so badly, his skin _still_ felt like it was on fire, and he just wanted his boyfriend. His boyfriend who wasn’t even there, who thought sleeping in was more important than—Harry shook his head. He wasn’t going to think about Louis at home, without Harry, doing…whatever. He didn’t want to think about it.

 

+

 

“Louis, when are you gonna get here?” Niall asked as he paid for his snacks, stuffing them into a bag.

_”I’ll be there soon. How is he?”_

“You’d know if you were here,” he muttered.

Louis sighed. _”I’ll be there. I just have to shower and get dressed.”_

“Yes, please take your time showering. Meanwhile, Harry can hardly move and he can’t even wear a shirt because his skin is peeling off,” he said sarcastically. “But please, take your time.”

_”What’s wrong with you?”_

“What’s wrong with _you,_ Louis?” Niall asked. “You should be here. You should’ve been here when he woke up.”

Louis hesitated on the other end of the call. _”He doesn’t look like Harry,”_ he whispered.

Niall sighed. “He’s injured, Louis. He’s still the same person.”

_”Would you be if that happened to you?_

“He needs you, Louis, now more than ever,” Niall snapped. “You need to get here. And you need to bring him some clean pants and shorts or trackies, yeah? I have his mobile charger with me, so just bring anything else you think he needs, yeah?”

Louis sighed. _”Yeah, alright.”_

“And hurry up. I know he wants to see you.” Niall shoved his mobile into his pocket as he made his way back into the hospital and up towards Harry’s room. He saw Liam walking in and called out to him. “Liam!”

Liam smiled warmly at him, pausing outside of Harry’s door. “Niall, how are you?”

“Good. Is Harry—“

“He’s okay,” Liam told him. “I was just about to take him in for a bath. Dr. Grimshaw wants to see him after to see how he’s healing.”

“Is he?”

“Healing?”

Niall nodded.

“He is. The second-degree burns will heal within two or three weeks. The third degree burns…they’ll take time,” Liam explained. “We’ll know more today if he needs skin grafts.”

“Are you going to help him with the bath?”

Liam nodded. “I’ve bathed so many patients—“

“It’s not that,” Niall interrupted. “I’m glad it’s you. It’s… I’m comfortable with that, I suppose?” he shrugged. “Can I help at all?”

“It’s probably best for you to just come back in a little bit. This is his first shower since the accident and…it’s going to suck,” Liam said with a frown. 

Niall sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He’s my best mate, yeah? I just…”

“I’ll take care of him,” Liam promised, reaching out to set a hand on Niall’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I know,” Niall said with a nod. “I’ll just be back in a bit, yeah?”

Liam nodded, bidding him farewell before slipping into Harry’s room. He saw Harry sitting up in bed, favoring his right side, and scrolling through his mobile with a frown on his face. The sheet was pooled over his lap, covering himself and his bare thighs, and his hair was tangled, falling over his forehead. Liam was quickly reminded of how _young_ Harry was, and it was ridiculous because they were so close in age. And now Harry was dealing with skin grafts and third-degree burns on his neck when it was July and he should’ve been dealing with pool parties and hangovers. He took another step closer, setting his chart down by the sink. “Harry?”

Harry looked up slowly. “Hi, Liam.”

“Y’alright?” he asked, nodding towards his mobile.

Harry lifted his left shoulder in a careless shrug. “Just scrolling through my pictures. Louis took this one before the accident,” he told him, holding up the mobile.

Liam stepped closer to inspect the picture, seeing Harry’s bright eyes and big smile, complete with a dimple in his left cheek, and a pretty boy with chestnut hair and bright blue eyes; their arms were around one another, Harry’s face buried against Louis’ neck, and it made Liam smile. They looked good together, and Harry looked so _happy,_ it was impossible to miss; there was a little something lacking in Louis’ eyes, in his expression, but they looked good together. “You make a dashing couple,” he told him.

Harry scoffed. “We did.”

“Why do you say that?” Liam asked.

Harry pointed towards the side of his neck, his arm, and his hand. 

“It’ll heal,” Liam told him.

“Not enough. I’ll never look like I did before,” he muttered. 

“With the skin grafts—“

“I’ll look like a patchwork quilt,” Harry interrupted. 

“It’ll take time for you to get used to it,” Liam told him. “And whether you accept skin grafts or not, you’ll heal, and you’ll be back to normal in no time. I can tell that you’re strong, Harry. I know you’ll be able to get through this. You have Niall, who is amazing and has not left your side, and you have Louis, who seems to be a great boyfriend—“

“The best,” Harry interrupted with a sad smile. 

Liam set a hand on Harry’s left shoulder. “Hold onto that, yeah?”

Harry nodded.

“Now c’mon, time for a bath,” Liam told him.

Harry frowned. “Is it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, it’s gonna hurt,” Liam admitted. “But it’s just you and me. So if you want to yell or hit me, I won’t tell anyone,” he assured him with a smile.

“Thanks,” he muttered with a small smile of his own. 

 

+

 

“About time ya get here, ya tosser,” Niall muttered as he saw Louis walking up towards the hospital, the thin strap of Harry’s satchel flung over his shoulder. 

Louis rolled his eyes behind his aviators. “It hasn’t even been an hour and a half,” he told him.

Niall sighed. “It’s nearly noon, Lou—“

“Whatever, Ni, m’here, alright?” 

“Right,” Niall said with a nod.

“Don’t even know why you’re mad at me anyway,” he muttered.

“Because your boyfriend is upstairs, having a nurse scrape half of his skin off in the shower, and you’re just now getting here when I called you two hours ago,” Niall explained. 

Louis groaned. “God, I get it, Ni. I should’ve been here earlier, blah blah. I’m here.”

Niall sighed. “Let’s just go—“

“Hold on,” Louis said and he paused, something— _someone_ —catching his eye. He locked eyes with the man leaning against the building, his lips wrapped around the filter of a cigarette, a few days worth of scruff covering his jawline. A leather jacket was pulled tight across his shoulders, even in the July heat, scuffed Chucks on his feet and tight black jeans, and he looked _good._

“Your boyfriend is upstairs and you’re checking someone out,” Niall deadpanned. “Why am I not surprised?”

Louis scoffed. “Please, I’m not hurting anyone.”

“Let’s just go upstairs and see Harry, okay?”

 

+

 

“Do you ever take a break?”

Liam glanced up when he heard Zayn, instead only seeing a white plastic bag of takeaway, and he ripped it from his friend’s hand. “Bless you,” he said, opening the bag and pulling out the Styrofoam containers. 

Zayn pursed his lips and nodded. “Good to see you, too.”

“What are you doing here? I thought we were getting dinner or drinks later?” Liam asked.

He shrugged. “Got the songs finished early so Simon let me leave. I thought I’d bring you lunch.”

“Your songs are done already?”

Zayn shrugged, tugging his cigarettes out of his pocket and sliding one behind his ear. “Simon wants me to rest my voice for a couple of days.”

“Must be the cigarettes,” Liam chastised.

Zayn smiled.

“Can you try not to smoke before you come in here? I have burn victims. I don’t want them to…smell smoke and have a panic attack or something,” Liam told him.

Zayn rolled his eyes but nodded anyway. “I’ll try.”

Liam’s eyes widened. “That was easy.”

“I can be understanding sometimes.”

“Rarely,” Liam corrected with the hint of a smile. 

“Want me to get you a drink? I didn’t bring one.”

“I can do it—“

“Relax and eat your lunch,” Zayn told him. He reached across the counter and ruffled the top of Liam’s hair before walking past the nurse’s station to the ice machine. He spotted the same boy from earlier, aviators tucked into the collar of his shirt, and he rolled his eyes. The boy was taking his time, staring at the full pitcher of ice as if it was going to do tricks, and Zayn cleared his throat. “You done yet?”

The boy jumped back, a hand clutching his chest. “You terrified me.”

Zayn nodded slowly. “M’sure I did,” he told him, picking up a cup and filling it with ice. He dug some coins out of his pocket, feeding the vending machine, and getting Liam a Sprite. 

“Visiting someone?”

“My mate works on this floor.”

“Oh. I’m visiting someone.”

“Good for you,” Zayn said.

“Yeah, just… My friend. I’m Louis,” he said, holding out his hand.

Zayn shook it quickly. 

“Your mate…he works here?”

“He’s a nurse.”

“He’s just your mate, then?”

“Last I checked,” Zayn told him with a forced smile. “I should be getting back. He only gets a few minutes for lunch.”

“Right.”

Zayn sent him a wave and turned around, only to hear Louis calling out to him again.

“Do you…visit him often?”

“Do you visit your friend often?”

Louis pursed his lips. “Yeah.”

Zayn nodded, sending him a small smile before retreating from the room and making his way back to Liam. He found his friend wiping his hands off on a napkin, sandwich finished, and he frowned. “You’re done already?” he asked, holding out the cup of ice and can of Sprite.

Liam opened up the can and took a quick drink. “Gotta eat fast.”

“Did you even taste it?” he joked.

Liam smiled. “It was delicious. Thanks for bringing me lunch.”

Zayn shrugged. “Do you know a kid named Louis? Here visiting his friend?”

“His friend? Harry’s his boyfriend,” Liam said with a frown.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “He was definitely flirting with me. What a wanker.”

Liam laughed and tried to hide it quickly, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. How could he do that to Harry—“

“Liam, it’s not your job to worry about their personal lives,” Zayn reminded him softly. “Just worry about their health.”

“His boyfriend caught on fire—“

“Aren’t there laws preventing you from telling me this?” Zayn asked.

Liam rolled his eyes. “And he’s flirting with you. Unbelievable,” he scoffed. 

“I’m pretty sure there are laws about this,” Zayn said with a definitive nod.

“You’re right. Liam—“

“Dr. Grimshaw, I’m sorry—“ Liam started.

“You’re fine, and it’s Nick,” he corrected him with a smile. “Let’s go talk with Mr. Styles.”

“Of course,” Liam said, hastily standing up and trying to locate the chart.

“It’s by the door,” Zayn stage whispered, sending his best friend a smile.

Liam narrowed his eyes at Zayn.

“Lunch tomorrow?” Zayn asked.

Liam nodded before waving his friend off. “Yeah, yeah, bye.” He watched as Zayn walked away and he looked up at Nick. “Sorry about that, Nick.”

“You’re fine,” he repeated. “Let’s go.”

With another nod, Liam followed Nick down the hallway and he stopped outside of Harry’s room. Liam handed Nick the chart and he read it quickly, flipping through the pages. 

“Blood pressure normal?”

“Yeah, all of his vitals are fine.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Nick said, knocking on the door before walking in. “Mr. Styles, I’m Dr. Grimshaw. How are you feeling?”

Harry looked up from his mobile, eyes flicking back and forth between Liam and his doctor. “As good as expected, I suppose,” he told him.

“Who’s here with you today?” Nick asked, setting Harry’s chart down and walking over towards the bed.

“My boyfriend, Lou, and our best mate, Niall,” Harry introduced.

Louis glanced up from his mobile with a small grin while Niall just waved. 

Nick reached for the hand sanitizer dispenser and cleaned his hands quickly before joining Harry next to the bed. “Let’s see how you’re healing,” he said, picking up Harry’s hand and expecting the burns across his fingertips, his palm, up the length of his arm. When he reached the skin at his neck, Harry hissed, eyes scrunching shut. 

“Lou—“

“It’s alright, Haz,” Niall said when Louis didn’t move from his spot on the couch. Niall got up and grabbed Harry’s left hand, allowing him to tighten his hold when the doctor pressed his fingertips along the outside edges of the burn. Niall kicked Lou’s leg roughly, causing Lou to drop his mobile on the floor.

“What was that for?!”

“You know what it was for,” Niall snapped. 

“Lads, please,” Nick said quietly, tilting Harry’s head to the left to inspect his burns. “Alright, the shower helped get rid of some of the dead skin—“

“You sure it didn’t take off about ten layers with it?” Harry asked with a soft laugh. “Felt like all of my skin was being ripped off.”

Nick smiled. “It’ll feel like that for the first few days. I promise it’ll get better. Now, the second degree burns here on your arm,” he said, motioning to the puckered skin, “will take about two weeks to heal. The three-degree burns on your neck, however, will take longer. We can do a skin graft within the next few days—“

“I don’t want skin grafts,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Mr. Styles, I want you to understand the benefits of the skin grafts—“

“I don’t want them,” he repeated with a frown.

“You don’t want skin grafts?” Louis asked.

Harry turned to face his boyfriend, still frowning. “No, I don’t.”

“Why not? You want to have those scars forever?” he asked.

“Louis!” Niall said with a scoff. “Harry, it’s your choice. And if you don’t want them—“

“I don’t want them,” Harry said.

“You’ll look like—“

“Like what, Lou? Like _what_?” Harry asked, eyes filling up with tears. “You think I don’t know? You think I don’t know that I look like a fucking freak? Like a monster or summat?”

“You don’t—“ Niall started.

“Don’t, Niall, I _do,_ okay?” Harry said. “And I’m going to have to live with it. I’ll look like a bloody quilt or summat if they do skin grafts. Not to mention I’ve no arse for them to take the skin from,” he grumbled. 

“Your arse has more than enough skin for the grafts,” Louis said with an eye roll. 

Harry gritted his teeth and sighed, turning back to face the doctor. “I don’t want skin grafts,” he repeated.

Nick nodded. “That’s your choice, Mr. Styles.”

“Is it bad for me if I don’t get them?” Harry asked, looking up at him.

“Not exactly,” Nick said. “You might have to stay another day or two, just to ensure the worst of it is healed.”

Harry sighed. “So when’s the soonest that I can leave if I don’t get the skin grafts?”

“Three or four more days,” Nick told him. “Just to be safe.

“When can I go back to work? he asked.

“A couple of weeks.”

Harry groaned. “I can’t work for two weeks?”

“What do you do?”

“I work in a bakery.” 

Nick smiled. “You’ll want to avoid baking for a while. You’ll want to avoid any sort of extreme heat that could irritate the skin.”

Harry sighed. “Two whole weeks?”

“Doctor’s orders,” Nick told him. “The burns look like they’ll heal fine. How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “Uncomfortable and in pain. That’s expected, yeah?”

Nick smiled and nodded. “Liam here will take care of you, alright? Liam, I want you to put bacitracin ointment on the burns every eight hours. Cover the ones on his neck this time, but let them breathe at night. Increase his morphine drip from one milligram to two every hour. And another bath tonight before bed should help; wash off all of the bacitracin, let it breathe, then apply another coat before he goes to sleep,” he told him.

Liam nodded, jotting down a few notes onto a piece of paper and shoved it into his pocket. “Got it.”

“Any questions, Mr. Styles?”

“No. Thank you, Dr. Grimshaw.”

Nick nodded and left the room, leaving Liam to gather his chart and make a few notes. 

“I’ll go and get the ointment. I’ll be back in a few,” Liam told.

Harry withdrew his hand from Niall’s when Liam walked out of the room and turned to face Louis. “You just… Why do you care if I get the skin grafts or not?” he asked.

“Sorry I want what’s best for my boyfriend,” Louis muttered.

“Is it really what’s best for me if it’s not what I want?” Harry countered.

Louis sighed. “Harry—“

“It’s what’s best for you,” Harry interrupted. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re going to look like when the burns heal?” Louis asked him. “You’re gonna look like a fr—“ he cut himself off and shook his head.

“Like a freak,” Harry finished for him. “Ni, can you give us a mo?”

Niall sighed, looking between both of them. “You sure, Haz?”

“Yeah.”

“Five minutes,” Niall told them before stepping out of the room. 

“Why are you acting like you want to be anywhere but here?” Harry asked softly. 

“Because I don’t _want_ to be here, Harry,” Louis told him. “I don’t want to spend every minute in a bloody hospital.”

Harry nodded slowly. “You think I do?”

“No, I…” Louis sighed. “You’re such an idiot, Harry.”

He frowned; Louis had called him an idiot before, always fondly, and this—this wasn’t one of those moments. Harry looked down at his hands, thumb running across some of the skin that was peeling back. “You know, I don’t even exactly remember everything that happened?”

“You weren’t paying attention, like normal,” he muttered.

“I didn’t know you were going to start the car—“

“It stalled—“

“The whole thing isn’t my fault, Louis,” Harry told him. “I’m to blame, yeah, but it wasn’t just me.”

“It was stupid, Harry,” Louis replied. “You weren’t paying attention, and now you’re stuck in a hospital, covered in burns that are going to scar, and you look horrible and—“

“I know I look horrible. Is that what’s really bothering you?” Harry asked quietly.

Louis hesitated. 

Harry watched him for a few seconds, seeing his eyebrow twitch. He knew Louis well enough to know when he was lying, even though Louis rarely lied about anything; he was more of the brutally honest type, saying whatever he wanted without regard for someone’s feelings. Yet he was hesitating, and Harry didn’t know if he should feel thankful or not. 

“I can’t do this, Harry.”

Harry sucked in a deep breath. “Can’t do what?”

“This,” Louis repeated. “You—This—“

“Are you breaking up with me?” Harry whispered. 

“I—I don’t know,” Louis admitted. 

Harry sniffled. “It’s because of the scars, yeah?”

Louis hesitated again.

“I knew it,” he whispered. “When I woke up, and you weren’t here, I knew it.”

“I couldn’t be here every second of the day, Harry—“

“Niall was here.”

“Then maybe you should bloody date Niall!” Louis snapped. 

Harry bit his lip as he felt a couple of tears slip down his cheek. He reached up and brushed them away quickly. “I don’t wanna date Niall. I want to be with you, Lou, I love _you._ ”

“I know,” Louis said quietly, running a hand over his hair. “It hasn’t been working out for a while…”

“And you were waiting for the right time?” Harry asked sarcastically. “Because this wasn’t it.”

“There would never be a right time,” he replied. 

“But it’s _really_ not a right time when I’m lying in a hospital bed,” he muttered. 

“Harry—“

“Just go, Louis, I know you don’t really want to be here,” Harry told him, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his fist. And he wasn’t really surprised when Louis left the hospital room without another word. Harry curled onto his left side, resting his arm over his waist and trying not to cringe too much at the pressure. He barely heard Liam enter the room and only realized he was there when Liam gently reached for his arm.

“Are you okay?” Liam whispered.

Harry sniffled and shook his head. “No,” he said, holding his arm out. He hissed in pain as Liam started spreading the thick ointment on the back of his hand, making his way up his arm and towards his neck. He tilted his head down as Liam rubbed ointment over the burns, covering them with gauze and paper tape. By the time he was done, Harry’s pillow was soaked with tears and snot, his shoulders shaking. “He broke up with me.”

“He’s an idiot,” Liam said quietly. 

“No, he’s not,” Harry whispered. “Can’t really blame him. Who would want to be seen with someone like me?”

“Plenty of people,” Liam assured him. “The scars, they don’t define you. And if Louis can’t see past that, then you’re better off without him anyway, you know?”

Harry shrugged. “Can I have more pain medicine?”

Liam rubbed a hand over Harry’s shoulder before adjusting the buttons on the machine by his bed. He watched as another dose of pain medication was administered and he heard Harry’s sleepy sigh. Harry snuggled against the pillow and Liam pulled the blanket over his chest, adjusting his right arm overtop of it so the blanket didn’t aggravate the burns, and he stepped out of the room.

“Is he sleeping?”

Liam turned to see Niall leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and he nodded. “He will be in a few minutes.”

“Did he say anything? Louis left before I could stop him. I know it’s not your job—“

Liam cut him off with a gentle wave of his hand. “It’s alright. They broke up,” he told him.

Niall sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fuckin’ Lou,” he muttered. “I should—“ he said, pointing towards Harry’s room.

“Maybe you should let him rest for a little bit.”

“I wanna be there when he wakes up.”

Liam nodded; he understood that, he did, especially after Harry had been alone when he woke up initially. 

“Thanks for telling me.”

 

+

 

Harry woke up the next morning to an itching sensation along his arm, and he reached out to scratch it, stopping just in time. He gritted his teeth, clenching his hand into a fist and he cried out when the skin pulled tight across the knuckles. “Fuck,” he muttered, sucking in a deep breath. He reached for his mobile, unlocking it to find that it was barely after six in the morning. He sent Niall a message, begging (in so many words) for apple turnovers and blueberry muffins please please _please_ and hit the nurse’s button—he needed water or he was going to die of thirst. (Probably not, but he was really thirsty.) Less than three minutes later, the light was being turned on, dimly lighting the room, and Liam walked over, his mouth dropping open.

“What happened to you?”

“I caught on fire?” Harry offered weakly with a smile, his voice rough from sleep.

“Not that,” Liam said, turning the light on brighter and tugging the blanket away from Harry’s chest. “Can you lift your shirt up for me, please?”

“Can’t even buy me dinner first?” he asked with a laugh, but he pulled the hem of his tank top up over his chest.

Liam sighed. “I’m going to page Dr. Grimshaw. You’ve broken out in hives. Are you itching at all?”

Harry nodded, rubbing at his eyes and sitting up a little straighter. “It woke me up. I thought it was the burns healing.”

Liam shook his head. “Not quite. The burns aren’t healing just yet. I think you’re allergic to the bacitracin.”

He groaned. 

“I’m gonna talk to the doctor and be back in about thirty minutes, alright? We’ll give you a bath. I’ll get you some Benadryl for the itching—“

“Please, no,” Harry said with a groan. “I can’t take anything else that’s going to make me sleep. I’ve slept for days. I don’t even remember what the outside world looks like,” he told him, flinging his hand towards the window. 

Liam laughed softly. “It’ll just make you tired for a few hours.”

“Am I allowed to bargain with you?” Harry asked.

Liam laughed again. “I don’t think so.”

“If I take the Benadryl,” he started, “am I allowed to go outside this afternoon for a few minutes?”

“Harry—“

“I’ll stay in the shade. Please, Liam?” Harry asked with a pout. “I need sunshine. I need fresh air.”

“I’ll talk with the doctor and see if it’s okay. That’s all I can do.”

Harry smiled softly. “I knew you’d give in. I’m very convincing.”

Liam shook his head. “You seem in better spirits today. After Louis left—“

Harry held up his hand. “Let’s…not, yeah? I’m in enough pain.”

“Right,” Liam agreed. “I’m going to go page the doctor.”

“Can I get some water?”

Liam nodded. “I’ll bring you some in a minute, alright?”

“Thank you,” Harry said, watching as Liam slipped out of the room. He had woken up in a good mood, he really had, but the reminder of what had happened the previous day with Louis was almost enough to ruin it. He unlocked his phone to see an indecipherable message from Niall and he laughed, opening up his Facebook app to check his updates. His inbox was flooded with messages from his mates, asking what happened with him and Louis, and he frowned when he realized Louis had already ended their relationship status on a social networking site and—wow. Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, setting his phone aside, because he actually thought Louis was better than that but, well, he supposed it didn’t really matter anymore. 

By the time Liam returned with his water, Harry had almost stopped thinking about Louis. He took a long drink of the water while Liam readied the bathroom, and they followed through the same procedure as the day before. Liam helped Harry remove his shirt, leading him into the bathroom. Harry gritted is teeth in pain, biting his lip until it bled as Liam scrubbed at his arm with the washcloth. Liam apologized profusely as Harry let himself cry, scrubbing the dead skin off of his arm and the side of his neck. 

“M’almost done, Harry, I promise. I’m sorry,” Liam told him.

Harry shook his head. “Why did he have to break up with me?”

Liam reached over and turned off the water, patting Harry’s arm dry as lightly as he could. “I don’t know,” he whispered.

“He already made it Facebook official,” he said with a scoff. “Like that’s all I deserve.”

“You deserve better than that,” Liam told him. 

“He just wanted a reason. And now that I’m hideously scarred, it made it easier for him to dump me and find someone better,” Harry muttered. “And I knew he was shallow, yeah? It wasn’t a big deal. He likes to look nice, he liked when I looked nice, it was _okay._ Because Louis always wanted to be one of the beautiful people,” Harry explained. “And I was okay with it, because he is beautiful. But I just don’t understand why I don’t fit in with his life anymore. We live together, we—I love him.”

Liam remained quiet throughout Harry’s rant, rubbing his back softly. 

“You don’t just stop loving someone overnight,” Harry said slowly. “So either he wanted to break up with me for a while or he never loved me at all. What do you think?” he asked, looking up at Liam, his eyes wide.

Liam sucked in a deep breath. “It’s not—“

“I know it’s not professional, Liam, but I have to know, I—“ Harry sighed, feeling his eyes fill up with tears again and he reached up to wipe them away. “I’m just trying to understand what I did wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Liam said quickly. “I don’t know Louis, so I can’t speak for him. But what you’re going through, it’s hard enough, and he’s making it worse.”

“But at the same time,” Harry started, “isn’t it better for him to do it now than drag it out? I don’t want to feel like he was only here because he felt like he had to be. It would only make me feel more pathetic.”

Liam nodded slowly. “I think you’re upset. And I think you’re better than this. It’ll take time, but your heart will heal with your wounds, yeah?”

Harry smiled. “That was the most cliché thing I’ve ever heard.”

Liam laughed. “I’ve been waiting to use that one,” he told him with a grin. 

“Yeah?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But you’ll be okay. You have Niall. And I’m here, too, if you need anything.”

“You’ll be my friend?” Harry asked.

Liam nodded again. “Absolutely.”

Harry smiled. “You’re the best, Liam.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s get you back into bed, yeah?”

Harry sighed but he changed into a pair of gym shorts at Liam’s request, allowing him to lead him back towards the bed. He sat down and looked out of the window, sighing. “Can I go outside later?”

“For a few minutes,” Liam told him. “And you have to stay in the shade.”

Harry looked over at him, his eyes wide. “Are you takin’ the piss?”

Liam shook his head.

“I can actually leave the hospital?”

“You can sit in the courtyard,” Liam corrected him. “Which is still technically the hospital.”

“But I can go outside?” Harry asked. 

Liam nodded. “For a few minutes,” he reminded him.

Harry was positive he hadn’t smiled so widely since before the accident.

 

+

 

Harry hadn’t been out in the sunlight in nearly a week. At least, not that he remembered. He definitely did not bribe Liam with the muffins Niall had brought him for breakfast for extra time outside… Okay, maybe he did, but fifteen minutes was all that he really needed. He took out a bottle of water with him, knowing that he had to stay hydrated, and he sat at one of the little picnic tables, underneath an umbrella, just enjoying the fresh air. A few nurses were on their break, eating their lunch and laughing with friends, and Harry refused to be sad. He was determined to deal, with the situation of his health and Louis, and he wasn’t going to let it bring him down. 

He turned his face towards the sunlight, making sure to shield his burns, and his heart sped up a little when he caught a whiff of smoke. He paused and turned towards the left, his eyes landing on a slim figure, leaning against the wall, cigarette perched between his lips. Harry narrowed his eyes, wishing he had the sense to ask Niall to bring him his sunglasses, and he watched the man, realizing he wasn’t being subtle at all but, hell, the man was _gorgeous._

Harry was used to Louis, his caramel hair and bright blue eyes, his style, his smile, but this guy was entirely different, all dark and handsome, scruff lining his jaw, leather jacket with the sleeves cuffed, scuffed boots and skinny jeans. He was the opposite of Louis in every physical way, and Harry knew he was staring, he knew he wasn’t being subtle, but he couldn’t _help it._ The guy looked up, meeting Harry’s eyes, and he smiled around the filter, blowing out the smoke and flicking away the ashes; he sucked his lower lip into his mouth before he pushed away from the wall and started walking over towards him.

Harry looked away instantly, looking down at his hands, fumbling with his mobile, contemplating all of the ways he could leave without actually talking to him. He could fake a heart attack, act like someone was calling him, or just leave. The first was extreme, the second was realistic, and the third would just solidify him as a complete wanker and not _just_ a creep. He could—

“This seat taken?”

Harry bit his bottom lip into his mouth and shook his head. “No, s’free.”

The man smiled and sat down on the bench, a foot or two away from Harry, and he took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out before extending a hand to Harry. “I’m Zayn.”

“Harry,” he said with a nod, but he didn’t take Zayn’s hand. He watched as his brow furrowed as he pulled his hand back, wiping it off on the leg of his skinny jeans. He watched the way his collarbones shifted underneath the hem of his tank top, a smattering of ink barely revealed by the fabric, as he lifted the cigarette to his lips again. “Can you—“ Harry said before he could stop himself, but he caught himself in time, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“No, what is it?” Zayn asked, hesitant. 

Harry’s eyes fell to the cigarette and towards his hand, tucked against his side to where Zayn couldn’t see. “Nothing.”

Zayn nodded slowly and dropped the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. “Sorry. I should probably learn to ask if it’s alright, yeah?” he asked with a grin.

“S’fine. You didn’t have to do that,” he told him.

Zayn shrugged. “S’not a big deal at all, Harry. You work here?” he asked.

Harry laughed and shook his head, realizing Zayn wasn’t able to see the bracelets around his wrist indicating that he was a patient, not an employee. 

“Visiting a friend?”

“Are you?”

Zayn nodded. “My mate Liam works here. We get a bite for lunch when I’m not in the studio,” he told him with a shrug.

“The studio?”

He hesitated before nodding again. “Yeah.”

“Does Liam work on the fourth floor?”

“Yeah.”

“A nurse? Big brown eyes, birth mark on his neck?”

Zayn laughed. “You know him?”

Harry nodded. “He’s a great lad.”

“The best,” Zayn agreed. “Are you a patient?”

Harry bit his lip again, looking down at his feet, the flip-flops he borrowed from Niall because he didn’t feel like putting on shoes. “Yeah, I am.”

“You’re one of Liam’s patients,” Zayn commented. 

“Yeah,” he said quietly.

Zayn frowned. “Why are you—“

“I should go. Doctor’s orders, only a few minutes outside,” Harry said, standing up quickly. He shoved his mobile into the pocket of his gym shorts and he turned to walk away.

Zayn reached out and grabbed his hand, standing up himself. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he told him. “I just… You’re acting strange.”

“You don’t know me. Maybe this is me acting normal,” Harry offered with a weak smile.

Zayn grinned, ducking his head slightly. “Doubt that, mate.”

Harry laughed softly, running his hand over his curls. “I just…was in an accident. M’not in the best shape,” he told him. 

“Is anyone ever?” Zayn asked. 

“Good point,” he mumbled and, well, he didn’t know Zayn. He really didn’t, and Zayn didn’t know him, so what did he have to lose? He sucked in a deep breath and turned to face him, revealing his right side, and his eyes dropped to the ground. “They’re hideous, I know.”

“Who told you they were hideous?”

Harry looked up at him from under his eyelashes and, though he was an inch or two taller than Zayn, he felt so _small._ He shrugged. “I know they are.”

“They’re a part of you, Harry, whether you want them to be or not. And you’re far too handsome for those to bring you down,” Zayn said softly. 

Harry froze in place. “What?”

Zayn smiled. “Did I really just say that?”

“Yeah,” he told him with a nod.

“Well,” Zayn decided with a shrug. “It’s true. You are—handsome, that is.”

“Thanks,” he said, “but I know I look like some sort of movie villain. Like Two-Sides or whatever his name is from Batman.”

Zayn crinkled his nose. “Two-Sides? Really, Harry? Everyone knows his name is Two-Face,” he told him.

Harry paused. “Is it really? That’s not creative at all.”

“And Two-Sides is?” he teased.

Harry felt himself smile and he shrugged again. “Sounded good at the time,” he muttered, only slightly embarrassed by being called out on his lack of comic knowledge. Though, really, it wasn’t _that_ big of a deal.

“Besides, half of his face was burned off. And your face is perfect, so,” Zayn said, a slight blush tingeing his cheeks. 

“S’not,” he said quietly. “Yours, perhaps, but not mine.”

Zayn laughed, running a hand over his hair. “Are we having a flirt-off or summat?”

“That depends. Am I winning?” Harry asked. 

“Not a chance,” Zayn told him.

Harry pouted. “Can’t win ‘em all, yeah?”

“Can I walk you back up?” Zayn asked him.

“Yeah, I—Yeah,” Harry replied, smiling softly. And if he thought Zayn was gorgeous before, he was definitely screwed now because the smile that lit up his face was ridiculous, the sun bouncing off of the gold flecks in his eyes, and Harry was definitely, definitely screwed. Because everything with Louis had been complicated but it felt easy, but flirting with Zayn was new and exciting, and there was a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach that Harry had not been prepared for at all.

 

+

 

“I thought the doctor said we had to keep the burns open,” Harry commented as Liam set about wrapping up his arm. 

“The bacitracin wasn’t strong enough,” Liam told him. “So we’re trying something new.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

Liam tapped his lower back. “Sit up. We gotta get this shirt off of you.”

“Okay,” Harry said, leaning up and Liam tugged the tank top over his head, folding it and setting it aside. He hissed as the cold air came into contact with his sensitive skin. “Met your mate Zayn earlier.”

Liam hesitated, just briefly, before continuing to wrap the bandage around Harry’s bicep. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “He’s…different.”

Liam laughed, taping up the bandage and reaching for a jar of cream. “Lean forward,” he instructed, rubbing the cream against the side of Harry’s neck, across his shoulder, and onto his back where a few burns were scattered across his ribs. “Different how?”

“Dunno,” Harry admitted quietly. “Just…different.”

“In a good way or a bad way?”

Harry smiled, feeling himself blush and he hoped that Liam wouldn’t notice. “Good way.” 

Liam remained silent for a few moments, covering the rest of Harry’s burns, before allowing him to lay back against the bed. “He was hitting on you, wasn’t he?”

“What—“

“You have a Zayn Look on your face,” Liam told him. “It’s the face people make when Zayn hits on them. Not me, I’m used to his flirting—“

“Are you two dating?” Harry interrupted.

Liam frowned, shaking his head. “No, he’s just my best mate. I’ve seen him in every state possible. We’ve been friends since we were five.”

“There’s a…Zayn Look?” he asked shyly, biting his lower lip. Because he didn’t want to feel like he was just another person for Zayn to flirt with, and he couldn’t explain it. Zayn had made him feel…normal and special at the same time, like he actually was just fine the way he looked with his burns and the scars he knew they would turn into, but. There was a _Zayn Look_ and Harry didn’t exactly know what that meant, and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to find out. 

“Zayn might be the most attractive person I’ve ever met,” Liam said with a laugh. “And I’ve seen him flirt with a lot of people. It’s a natural reaction. He’s always had to charm people to be taken seriously or something, I don’t know,” he told him with a shrug. 

“People don’t take him seriously?”

Liam shrugged again. “I probably shouldn’t tell you all of this…” he muttered.

Harry laughed lightly, looking over at Liam. “S’not like I’ve anyone to tell, yeah? Probably won’t even see him again,” he added quietly. 

“Do you want to?”

Harry paused. “I—Maybe?”

Liam smiled. “He brings me coffee in the morning when he goes off to the studio. I won’t be here for the next two days but—“

“What do you mean?” Harry interrupted.

“I…have days off?” Liam said slowly, making it sound like a question. “I can’t work every day.”

Harry pouted. “So someone different will be taking care of me?”

Liam nodded. 

“They won’t be as good as you.”

Liam felt himself smile. “Probably not.”

 

+

 

Harry was not having a good day.

He tried to tell himself it was because of the burns, he was in pain, whatever, but it wasn’t just that. The nurse that was working in Liam’s stead was named Mary Beth and Harry was positive he must’ve hurt her horrifically in a previous life or something because she was _harsh._ (He didn’t really believe in that sort of thing but it sounded better than Mary Beth just being a twat.) The morning bath hurt even worse, especially after she roughly removed the bandages—it was like she’d never removed gauze from a burn before, she wasn’t exactly being careful. Harry’s eyes welled up with tears and he bit his lip, unwilling to make a sound. 

Liam would’ve been gentle, talking him through it, distracting him with stories and anecdotes that weren’t really funny, but at least they were _something._

But Mary Beth was evil. No amount of pain medication was enough after the horrendous scrub down in the bath. Harry was positive he had lost three layers of skin and he still felt like his skin was on fire. He felt rubbed raw, the cream causing him to wince as she bandaged him up and put him back into bed. Harry glared at her retreating back as she left the room and he hit the button for another dose of pain medication. He fluffed up the pillow behind his back, refusing to put on his shirt, and he picked up his mobile. It was nearing noon and Niall had promised to stop by before he went off to work; that was the only thing keeping Harry from being in a completely horrible mood. 

By the time Niall arrived, Harry must’ve fallen asleep because he was awoken by his best mate’s laugh and a slap on his good shoulder. 

Harry pouted as he forced his eyes open, sending a mock glare to Niall. “Rude.” 

Niall smiled and set a few DVDs on the couch. “Brought you some movies so you aren’t too bored.”

“Bless.”

“How are you feeling?” Niall asked, plopping down on the couch. “And do you get anything for lunch? M’starving.”

Harry laughed. “Always thinking with your stomach, yeah?”

Niall shrugged. 

“M’fine,” Harry told him. “Sore. I think the nurse wants to kill me.”

“Liam isn’t working today?”

Harry shook his head. “He has the next two days off,” he replied.

Niall frowned. “Do you want me to talk to the nurse? Tell her to take it easy with you? Hell, mate, you were caught on _fire._ She should be more sympathetic,” he grumbled. 

“Don’t think she cares,” Harry said with a shrug. “Probably sees people in worse shape daily, yeah?”

“You should ask her for lunch,” Niall said, propping his feet up on the bed and kicking at Harry’s leg with one of his trainers.

“No,” Harry said quickly. “Don’t wanna ask her for anything.”

Niall nodded slowly, lips pursed, and he contemplated telling Harry just to suck it up and ask for lunch when he caught whiff of pizza—a smell he would know from anywhere. “I smell pizza.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I think you have superpowers, Ni,” he commented, snuggling back towards the pillow and wincing when he put too much pressure on his right side. “Damn it all to hell.”

“Can’t get comfortable?”

Harry shook his head, sucking in a deep breath. “S’like no matter how I move, I just hurt all over again, y’know?”

“Can’t say I do,” Niall muttered honestly. 

“How’s Louis?”

Niall paused. “You really want to know?”

Harry nodded. 

“He’s been…packing.”

Harry frowned. “He’s moving out?”

“Yeah,” Niall said with a shrug. “Tried to talk him out of it, but you know Louis.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “He must really hate me.”

Niall scoffed. “Has no reason to, mate, he’s the one who broke up with you. I know he’s my mate, too, but I can always kick his arse if ya want.”

Harry laughed softly, shaking his head. “Don’t do that.”

Niall nodded and sighed, his stomach grumbling, and he groaned. “C’mon, can you please order some lunch?”

“No, Ni,” he said adamantly and he shook his head. “S’not happening. Mary Beth will poison me or summat.”

“But—“ Niall was cut off with a knock on the door and he frowned, looking up to see someone standing in the door holding a pizza box. “My prayers have been answered.”

“Zayn?”

Zayn smiled, walking in and setting the pizza down on the tray by Harry’s bed. “Thought you might be hungry,” he told him.

Niall looked between Harry and Zayn and smiled. “And how do you two know each other?”

“We met in the courtyard yesterday,” Zayn offered, holding out his hand. “I’m Zayn, Liam’s my best mate.”

“Liam the nurse?” Niall asked, shaking his hand.

Zayn nodded in affirmation.

“Good lad. I’m Niall, and Harry’s my best mate,” he told him with a grin. “And you might be my best mate now, too.”

“He says that to everyone who brings him food,” Harry interrupted. “Don’t take it personally.”

Zayn pouted. “And here I thought I was making more friends. My mum would’ve been so proud.”

Niall laughed. “I’m gonna go get us some ice chips. Back in a mo, Haz,” he said, bouncing out of the room.

Zayn ran a hand over the back of his neck, turning to face Harry. “Is this weird?”

“Is what weird?” Harry asked.

“My being here? Showing up with…food while you look like you were sleeping?”

Harry looked down at his chest and reached for the blanket, pulling it up a little bit. He paused for a minute before pushing it down because, fuck, he was _warm_ and the material was beyond uncomfortable and nothing felt right. And then Zayn was in front of him, shrugging off his jean jacket and setting it by the couch, a Batman tee tight across his chest, his Converse scuffed, and he looked _so good_ that it was annoying. “No,” he said quietly. “Wasn’t sleeping, either. Can’t get comfortable enough to really get in a few hours,” he told him with a shrug.

Zayn frowned. “I’d be going crazy if I were you. I love sleep more than anything, even more than food,” he said with a laugh.

“More than food? You’re crazy,” Niall announced, walking back into the room and setting down three cups full of ice water. “So you’re mates with Liam?” he asked, opening the pizza box and grabbing a slice. 

“Yeah, since we were little,” Zayn told him. 

“Hope he’s back soon. Mary Beth is driving Harry crazy.”

Harry pouted. “I think she’s trying to kill me.”

Niall rolled his eyes, quickly finishing his slice of pizza. “She isn’t trying to kill you.”

“Look at me!” Harry declared. “She scrubbed half my skin off!”

“She’s _supposed_ to,” Niall told him. “It’s dead skin. It’s only helping you, I promise.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Harry pouted. 

“I’m on your side, Harry, don’t worry,” Zayn announced. “Niall’s crazy, obviously.”

Niall rolled his eyes. 

“Glad someone is,” Harry muttered.

Niall laughed, standing up and grabbing another slice of pizza. “I’m taking this one with me. I gotta get to work, lads.”

“I hate you,” Harry told him.

“Sure ya do,” Niall said, reaching over and messing up Harry’s curls. “Ignore his bad mood, Zayn. He’s just pissy because he can’t sleep or wank.”

“Niall!” Harry shrieked, cheeks flushing.

Zayn bit the inside of his cheek and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Thanks for the pizza. I’ll see you tomorrow, Haz. I’ll call you after work,” Niall told him.

“Please don’t,” Harry grumbled, hiding his face behind his hands.

“He’s gone,” Zayn told him, reaching up to pull out a slice of pizza, taking a bite.

Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as he lowered his hands, avoiding Zayn’s eyes as he grabbed a slice of pizza. It had been days since he remembered eating something but soup and bread, and he was so _hungry._ He forced himself to eat slow, not wanting to overdo it.

“How many tattoos do you have?” Zayn asked suddenly.

Harry paused. “M’sorry?”

Zayn nodded towards his chest. “Got a lot of ink?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said with a shrug. “Just…these.”

“A butterfly?”

“A _moth,_ ” he corrected.

Zayn smiled. “Looks like a butterfly.”

Harry paused. “Might be a butterfly,” he admitted softly.

“I like it,” Zayn said, taking another bite of his pizza. “They look good on you.”

“Butterflies?”

Zayn laughed. “Tattoos.”

“Oh, right. Thanks,” he said quietly, finishing his slice of pizza and tossing the crust back into the box.

“You don’t eat the crust?”

Harry shrugged.

“You’re mental,” Zayn said, reaching for Harry’s crust to finish it off. “The crust is the best part.”

“The cheese is the best part.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “You’ve just been through a traumatic event. I understand that you’re not thinking properly. I’ll let it slide.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head, and he felt so at ease. It was weird, different, being comfortable around someone he didn’t know, especially in his state. Granted the burns were covered, but he could feel Zayn’s eyes on him every few minutes. “I can put on a shirt if it’s making you uncomfortable,” he said softly.

“Sorry,” Zayn said automatically, meeting Harry’s eyes. “I shouldn’t have been staring, that was rude. I know you’re probably feeling bad enough already.”

Harry shrugged. “Not necessarily bad, just…like a freak, I don’t know,” he said quietly, shrugging again before looking down at his lap, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Promise me something?”

Harry frowned. “What?”

“Never call yourself that again,” Zayn said, his voice low. “Please, I—I can’t hear you say that.”

“But I do,” Harry told him. “I mean, it’ll take years to even look normal again. No one’s gonna want to be with someone who looks like me, okay? Not even my own—not even my ex,” he corrected.

Zayn took a long drink of water before standing up. He pulled the tray away from Harry’s bed and sat next to him, reaching for his bandaged hand. He trailed his fingers lightly over the gauze before his eyes met Harry’s; he wasn’t surprised to see that he was tearing up, even just a little, and he fit their fingers together, resting them on Harry’s lap. “Anyone who makes you feel less than worthy because of some scars isn’t worth your time. Normal is boring, normal is relative. I got tattoos to tell a story about my life; your story is embedded in you in a different way. It doesn’t change who you are, it doesn’t change who you want to be,” he explained, never breaking eye contact. “Besides, I think you’re proper fit. Your ex must be crazy to break up with you over something like this. She should be here with you, holding your hand, making sure you’re all right. Not leaving you.”

“He,” Harry whispered.

Zayn paused. “I’m sorry?”

“He. My ex is a…he,” he told him with a shrug.

Zayn smiled softly but he shook his head, wiping it off his face. “Sorry, I—Sorry. That’s just…”

“A surprise?”

“No, it—Not in a bad way, it’s just—Nice to hear,” Zayn said awkwardly.

“Nice to hear?” Harry asked.

Zayn shifted, moving to pull his hand away but Harry’s fingers tightened around his, holding him in place. “Nice in the sense that…” he trailed off. “I mean, it’s not… It’s not _nice_ so much as it is…”

“As it is?” he prompted with a laugh, unable to stop himself because it was clear how awkward Zayn was feeling and it was _adorable._ Harry had a feeling that Zayn was normally more confident, more sure of himself, and Harry felt a sense of pride at knocking Zayn a little off kilter. 

“You like boys,” Zayn blurted out. 

Harry smiled. “Yeah,” he told him with a nod.

“Me, too,” Zayn said with a shrug. “So that’s…nice. We have that in common.”

“Yeah, we do,” Harry agreed. 

“I should go.” Zayn said, standing up.

“You can’t stay?” Harry asked, letting go of Zayn’s hand.

Zayn reached for his jean jacket, pulling it on. “I can’t. I have to get to the studio before Simon freaks out on me.”

“Simon? What do you do?”

“I’m…making an album,” Zayn told him.

“You sing?”

Zayn nodded.

“Can I hear it sometime?” Harry asked.

Zayn paused and he was positive the look in Harry’s eyes was something akin to adoration, but he wasn’t sure. “Of course. I’m not that—“

“If you say you’re not _that good,_ I might slap you. When my hand heals, anyway,” he shrugged.

Zayn laughed. “You’ve never even heard me.”

“I can tell you’re good,” Harry told him.

“Well, how about you listen to a song before you decide that, yeah?”

Harry frowned. “I guess. Do you stay at the studio long?”

He shrugged. “As long as I need to, I s’pose.”

“Oh.”

“I really should go,” Zayn repeated, but he didn’t make a move towards the door. 

“Will you—I mean,” Harry hesitated. “Will you come back?”

Zayn nodded. “Yes,” he answered automatically. “As long as you want me to?”

“I do,” Harry told him. 

Zayn smiled. “Where’s your mobile?” Harry pointed towards the tray and he watched as Zayn unlocked it, keying in his number, before handing it back to him. “I’m usually bored in the studio,” he said off-handedly. “Might be nice to have someone fit to talk to.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked with a grin, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“If you want.”

“I love talking to fit people.”

“Well, now that we’ve established that we’re both fit, I _really_ should go,” Zayn said with a laugh.

“You keep saying that but you never actually try to leave,” Harry told him and, wow, was he flirting with Zayn? Yeah, he was definitely _flirting._

“Liam’s gonna kill me,” Zayn muttered, finally walking towards the door.

“Why’s that?”

“I shouldn’t be flirting with his patients, but…” he shrugged. 

Harry laughed and—well, he _giggled._ He pushed the curls out of his face and nodded. “Probably not.”

Zayn shrugged again. “Just…text me, yeah?”

“Yeah, I will,” he promised. “S’not like I got anything else occupying my time.”

“Yeah, so I’ll just—“ Zayn said, pointing over his shoulder. He turned to walk out the door and nearly collided with the wall. He forced out a laugh, blushing as he turned to wave at Harry. “I’m just—Bye.”

Harry laughed as he watched Zayn walk away and, wow, just—wow. He couldn’t place it, he didn’t have a word for it, but Zayn was…brilliant. Harry hadn’t been expecting him to show up, hell, he hadn’t even been expecting to see Zayn again at all, but then he appeared out of nowhere with lunch and… Harry was done. He picked up his mobile and sent a quick message to Niall.

_Help. Zayn called me fit and held my hand and gave me his number. What do I do? .xx_

It was barely five minutes later when his mobile vibrated, indicating a new message.

**Text him back! Ha ha! He likes you!**

_You think so? .xx_

**Yes! Are u mental!**

_I think I like him… Is that weird? Lou and I JUST broke up… xx_

The reply took a little longer, but Harry tried to ignore that. He was already wrestling enough with his subconscious, going back and forth between feeling guilty for liking someone besides Louis and not caring since Louis had broken up with him in a hospital. It wasn’t a big deal and, hell, it didn’t even mean that Harry was going to _act_ on it, because he was pretty positive that he wouldn’t. But if Zayn liked him, and…well, anything could happen, right?

**Not weird at all, mate! Zayn’s a good lad! Text him!**

Niall might’ve been easily excited and constantly happy and smiling, carefree about every single aspect of his life, but he was also Harry’s best mate. And being Harry’s best mate entailed wanting the best for him. So if Niall decided that it wasn’t weird, then it couldn’t have been weird. So Harry bit the bullet and decided to message Zayn because he really didn’t have anything to lose.

_Try not to run into any walls at the studio… This pizza is delicious. Thanks for bringing it to me. :) .xx_

 

+

 

Maybe Niall was right. Not about texting Zayn or anything of the like, but—he was probably right. After Harry’s morning bath with Mary Beth, where he was _still_ convinced that she wanted to kill him because _holy fucking shit goddamn_ it hurt. He watched another layer of skin wash down the drain as tears pricked behind his eyelids. By the time he was in back in bed, his burns cleaned, slathered in cream, and covered, his mood was even worse. 

Dr. Grimshaw had stopped by long enough to note his progress, saying he should only have to stay another five to seven days, assess his pain level, and leave again. Harry maxed out his pain medication and nestled himself against the pillows. He was alone, knowing Niall couldn’t stop by because he was working all day, which was fine. He messed with his mobile, thumbing through the messages Zayn had sent him the previous day, complete with a picture of Zayn in the studio with oversize headphones and a ridiculous look on his face that Harry was kind of in love with. 

He set his mobile on the tray, pushing it aside, and he pulled the blanket over his chest, hoping for a nap. The most he got was an hour or two of drifting in and out of consciousness and waking up with a coiling in the pit of his stomach, the kind that could only be satiated with a severe wank which wasn’t exactly something he was able to take care of. Even if his hand wasn’t severely incapacitated due to his burns, there was still the small matter of being stuck in a hospital where a nurse could walk in at any minute. And Harry wasn’t exactly keen on trying to wank with his left hand just for Mary Beth to walk in and…be all _Mary Beth_ about it. So he grumbled to himself, rolled over onto his side, and tried to ignore the semi he was sporting.

Which, well, only lasted until there was a small knock on the door.

“Go away, Mary Beth,” Harry groaned. He wasn’t normally mean, only when the situation called for it, but Mary Beth was _evil_ and he didn’t want to see her. 

“M’not Mary Beth, mate,” Zayn announced. He walked into the room slowly and set down a greasy bag of Nandos on Harry’s tray.

Harry groaned again, attempting to cover his face with the blanket. He vaguely remembered Zayn saying he was going to drop off lunch before his plans with Liam, but mostly he forgot. And seeing Zayn walk into his room, tight jeans and a red plaid button up and a white wife beater, scruff lining his jaw, his hair flat and fluffy against his forehead and stuffed under a black beanie, was enough to make Harry remember the semi he’d been sporting. And, fuck, it wasn’t fair that Zayn was so attractive and Harry was so turned on and he couldn’t even _do anything._ Harry peeped open one eye, seeing Zayn looking at him with his eyebrows raised, and he sighed. “You look good.”

Zayn laughed softly. “Thanks,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if it was actually a compliment, because he could’ve sworn that he heard an insulting tone in his voice. “I brought you what you requested, extra chips, and a large soda.”

Harry frowned, eyes falling on a plastic bag that was next to the food. “What’s that?”

“Some comics,” Zayn said quietly. “Thought you might wanna read up on Two-Face.”

Harry just frowned.

“Thought that might make you smile…” he trailed off before shrugging. “You don’t have to read them. I can take them with me?”

“They can stay, I guess,” Harry whispered.

“Y’alright, Harry?” Zayn asked, sitting on the bed next to him.

Harry scooted back; he couldn’t have Zayn touch him, he couldn’t handle that. His body was tingling all over and, fuck, he just wanted a wank; he curled a little further onto his side to hide himself. “No,” he muttered with a pout. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching out to pet Harry’s curls.

Harry instantly leaned into Zayn’s touch as he tugged on his curls; he bit his lip, refusing to make a sound.

“You in pain?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod, because he _was_ but it wasn’t just the pain from his skin being rubbed off in the bath, but it was also the pain of just desperation. One good thing about his relationship with Louis was the constant affection and touching; they never went a day without getting one another off. And it had been a week, which wasn’t really _that long_ but it was also That Long, and Harry was going crazy. 

“Do you need more medicine?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s stupid,” he muttered. 

“What’s stupid?”

“I haven’t gotten off in a week and I’m going insane,” he blurted out.

Zayn’s golden eyes widened and he pursed his lips, sitting up a little straighter. “That’s not stupid,” he told him.

Harry pouted. “M’just trying not to think about it, sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay.”

“Can you sit on the couch, please?” Harry asked.

Zayn furrowed his brow but stood anyway, moving to sit on the couch. 

“Sorry, just—you smell nice, and you look nice, and I can’t right now,” he grumbled.

Zayn felt himself smile because Harry meant it negatively, but it was definitely a compliment, he was pretty sure. “Do you want me to…do something?” he asked.

“What?” Harry questioned.

Zayn shrugged and he couldn’t even stop the word vomit that was coming out of his mouth; he was _definitely_ going to have to work on his brain-to-mouth filter. “I could suck you off or summat?” he offered.

Harry sat up slowly, flushing. “What?” he repeated.

“Did I just say that?” Zayn asked, blushing furiously. “Fuck. I didn’t mean—I mean, I _meant_ it but—I shouldn’t have said that,” he decided finally, nodding his head. “I should not have said that.”

“But…you have plans with Liam. Would you even have time?”

Zayn paused. “I mean, I could—“

“Oh, no, no,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I can’t—We can’t—We’re in a _hospital,_ Zayn.”

“You’re right. You’re right,” he repeated, nodding again. “That’s. Stupid idea.”

“Good idea,” Harry told him, feeling himself flush. “Very good idea, but—“

“Bad timing?” Zayn offered.

“Yeah.”

“Probably didn’t help matters, eh?” Zayn said with a small smile.

Harry pursed his lips because, no, the image of Zayn between his legs, cheeks hollowed, hands pressed against Harry’s hips—No. That was not _helping_ matters at all, not at all. “No,” he said, shaking his head. 

Zayn grinned and stood up, pushing the tray over Harry’s bed. “Eat something, yeah?”

“I’ll try,” he said with a nod.

“Good. I’m going to go see Liam for a bit. Text me later?”

Harry nodded again. “Okay.”

“Brilliant,” Zayn said with a wide smile. “Besides,” he started, leaning down to brush his lips across Harry’s cheek, “the first time I suck you off, I don’t want to have to rush. I wanna take my time, make it good for you, yeah?”

Harry gulped as Zayn’s fingertips traced the side of his face, and he could’ve sworn his heart stopped when Zayn pressed his lips against the edge of the bandage on the underside of his neck. And for a moment, he almost forgot about the burns and the scars and how ugly he felt, because Zayn was beautiful, and Zayn made him _feel_ beautiful. But Harry just nodded, his own lips brushing Zayn’s scruff as he pulled away. 

“I’ll talk to you later,” Zayn promised, sending him a purely unintentional, yet completely intentional, smirk as he slipped out of the room.

Harry fell back against the bed groaning because, yeah, Zayn didn’t help his problem at all. With a frown, he dug into the Nandos bag because, well, if he couldn’t wank, then he was definitely going to eat.

 

+

 

“I’m an idiot, Liam.”

Liam frowned as Zayn pushed past him, falling face first onto his couch. He shut the door to his flat, walking over to the couch and sitting down on the floor next to Zayn’s head. “What did you do this time?”

Zayn glared over at him. “Why do you think I _did_ something?”

“Because you declared yourself an idiot,” Liam said.

Zayn sighed. “Forgot about that.”

“What happened?”

“I went to see Harry yesterday.”

Liam hesitated. “Harry my patient Harry?”

“Yeah, you knew I met him in the courtyard, yeah?”

Liam nodded. “Yeah, but—“

“So I took him lunch yesterday, and I met Niall—good lad,” Zayn decided.

“He is.”

“He thinks you’re a good lad, too.”

“M’glad to hear that,” Liam said slowly. “Back to why you’re an idiot?”

“I gave Harry my number yesterday. We talked all day while I was in the studio, sent each other silly pictures—“

“You never send me silly pictures,” Liam said with a frown.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “Are you listening to me? I _like_ Harry.”

“Oh.”

“I offered to suck him off today.”

“You _what_?!” Liam shrieked. 

Zayn flinched. “It was an _accident._ And I didn’t actually do it!”

Liam sucked in a deep breath, calming himself down. “If you want laid, why can’t you be a normal person and go to a club and find some unsuspecting stranger?”

Zayn frowned. “You’re takin’ the piss, yeah? You, Mr. Commitment?” 

“You don’t have to hit on my patients!”

“I like him!” Zayn repeated with a groan, hands covering his face. 

“What else?”

Zayn paused. “M’sorry?”

“I know you, Zayn. There’s more. What is it?”

“I…might’ve flirted with him quite a bit…and told him that the first time I sucked him off, I didn’t want to rush,” he blurted out in a rush. 

Liam sighed. “You’re flirting with Harry.”

“I am.”

“You like Harry.”

“I do.”

“You are an idiot.”

“We already decided that,” Zayn muttered, jolting when he felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket. He dug it out and opened up the message from Harry, a picture of him frowning, curls pushed out of his face due to a headband, and the message _All out of Nandos :( :( .xx_ and he felt himself smile because, well. He might’ve been an idiot, but he was pretty sure that Harry was an idiot for him. 

 

+

 

Harry woke up the next morning to Liam’s deep voice and a gentle hand on his shoulder. The minute Harry’s eyes flew open; he reached out and tugged Liam down for a hug before grimacing. “Ow, ow, Liam, hi.”

Liam pulled away with a laugh. “Your arm okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod and a grimace. “Actually, no. Fuck, that hurt.”

“Let’s see how they’re looking,” Liam decided, lightly pushing Harry back against the bed. He unwrapped his hand slowly, inspecting the burns across his fingertips and knuckles, nodding slowly. His forearm was next, then his elbow. Liam tossed the bandages into a special plastic bag next to the bed, moving onto Harry’s bicep, tittering under his breath. “Sit up real quick.”

Harry nodded and sat up, feeling Liam’s fingertips gently moving across his ribs to remove the bandages. Harry hissed as the cool air came into contact with the sensitive skin on his back. “How were your days off?”

“Good,” Liam told him, tugging off the gauze and apologizing profusely when Harry hissed in pain. 

“Fuck, you’d think they’d have bandages that don’t stick to the wound, yeah?” he asked, his voice rough and low as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“You’d think,” Liam agreed. “Why the hell do these look the exact same? Who was your nurse while I was gone?”

“Mary Beth,” Harry said, venom dripping from his tone. “She’s evil. She tried to kill me.”

Liam took a step back. “She tried to kill you?”

“She wanted to!” Harry declared. “No one believes me. She’s evil, Liam. I don’t trust her.”

Liam felt himself smile. “Let’s get you cleaned up, then I’ll page Dr. Grimshaw and see what we can do, yeah?”

Harry sighed and nodded, following Liam into the bathroom. He wasn’t dreading the bath, though he gritted his teeth throughout the entire process. By the time he was done, he was still in pain and even more tired than before.

“All right, back to bed—“

“Liam?” Harry interrupted, looking down at his hands where they were gripping his knees.

“Yeah?”

“Can you wash my hair? I know that’s probably not your job—“

“I can do it,” Liam told him. “You look like you need it anyway,” he teased.

Harry smiled and sighed happily as Liam tilted his head back, rinsing his hair before washing it thoroughly, running his fingers through Harry’s curls. Harry didn’t know one person who didn’t like having someone else wash their hair, and Liam was gentle, the way he always was, and it was relaxing. 

“You’re all done,” Liam announced, reaching for a towel.

Harry took the towel from him, running it over his curls. “Thank you.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like a new person,” Harry said with a grin. 

Liam laughed. “Let’s get you back to bed now.”

“One more thing?”

Liam paused. “Yeah, sure.”

“It’s…” Harry hesitated. “Can I have a few…minutes alone?”

“Oh,” Liam said before shrugged. “Yeah, sure, I—Oh. _Oh._ ”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered lowly, cheeks flushing. “Sorry, I—“

“No, you’re alright,” Liam assured him. “Just…take your time. I’ll go page the Doctor and be back in about half an hour, yeah?”

Harry nodded as Liam washed his hands and gracefully exited the room. He still felt awkward, more than a little embarrassed, but he was determined. And it was tough, since he couldn’t use his right hand that much, but he knew he could do it—he didn’t have a choice. He wrapped his fingers tightly around himself, sucking in a deep breath as the pressure built up in his stomach. 

And Christ, it was good, but it wasn’t enough. He jerked himself off quickly, biting his lower lip to stifle any sounds he might’ve made, but it still wasn’t _enough._ He groaned, reaching his right hand down to brush his palm across his balls, just past them to apply a little bit more pressure, and—there. Harry leaned back against the side of the shower, a little sigh escaping his lips, and an image of Zayn on his knees, pink lips stretched tight around his length, was the first thing that came to mind and—wow, _okay._ Harry twisted his wrist on the upstroke, swiping his thumb over the head, and he came quickly and, what the fuck?

He shouldn’t have been thinking about Zayn during that, he really shouldn’t have. But he couldn’t help it, and he couldn’t stop himself. And really, it was all Zayn’s fault for even planting the image in his head anyway. He washed his hands, wincing as the cold water ran over his sensitive palm, and he pulled on a pair of gym shorts, making his way back to the bed. He was an idiot. He was an idiot, and he was stupid, and he was jerking off to the image of someone he had known for two days, and… He was an idiot.

 

+

 

“Hey, Per, where’s Liam?”

Perrie looked up to see Zayn leaning against the nurse’s station, sipping from a McDonald’s takeaway cup, and she frowned. “Did you bring me lunch?”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “No.”

Perrie sighed dramatically. “He’s with a patient. He’ll be back in a minute.”

“Which patient?”

“Why does it matter?” she asked.

Zayn shrugged. “It doesn’t.”

Perrie nodded slowly. “Right.”

“What did Liam tell you?”

“That you have a crush on one of his patients.”

Zayn’s mouth fell open. “That’s—It’s just—Dammit, Liam. It’s false, is what it is. It’s just not true.”

Perrie laughed.

“It’s true,” Liam announced, walking back up to the nurse’s station. 

“Some best mate you are,” Zayn muttered. “And here I brought you lunch.”

Liam smiled, taking the McDonald’s bag from Zayn before sitting down next to Perrie. He brought out the container of fries and offered some to her. “Share?”

Zayn pouted. “I bring food for you, not your mates who are going to mock me.”

Perrie laughed, snatching a couple of Liam’s nuggets. “You’re the best, Zayn.”

“You really are,” Liam agreed. 

“Well, can you give this to Harry for me?” he asked, sliding a DVD across the top of the counter. 

Liam picked it up. “The Dark Knight?”

Zayn nodded.

“Trying to rub salt in the wound?”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “It’s a thing we were talkin’ about, yeah? He won’t take it as an insult.”

“Then you give it to him,” Liam said, sliding it back across the counter.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Zayn looked over at Perrie and frowned. “Don’t you have patient’s arses to be wiping?” he asked.

“If you want to be alone with Liam, all you have to do is ask,” Perrie teased with a wide grin. “But it’s alright. I’ll give you two alone time,” she told him, wiping her hands off on her scrubs and standing up, walking down the hall.

“That was rude,” Liam commented.

Zayn sighed. “I can’t go in there after I embarrassed myself yesterday.”

Liam pursed his lips. “I don’t see what you mean by embarrassing. Offering to suck someone’s dick shouldn’t be embarrassing at all,” he muttered facetiously. 

Zayn frowned. “He probably wants nothing to do with me now,” he groaned.

“You’re being ridiculous, Zayn. I highly doubt he’s going to hold it against you,” Liam told him.

“Did he say anything about me?” Zayn asked.

“Are we back in school? Go in there and give him the film.”

Zayn scuffed his shoe along the floor and pouted. “I don’t want to.”

“Where’s the confident Zayn that I know and love?” 

“He’s tired. He’s been mixing songs all day.”

“Go give him the movie,” Liam repeated. “I promise he doesn’t hate you or anything.”

Zayn sighed, picking up the DVD from the counter with a frown. “If he throws something at me, it’s your fault,” he declared. He ignored Liam’s smile and walked down the hall, pausing outside of Harry’s door. He knocked softly, entering when he heard Harry yell _come in,_ and he immediately felt stupid. He stepped into Harry’s eyesight and smiled softly.

“Zayn,” Harry said with a smile. “How are you?”

“Tired, actually,” he said. “Yourself?”

Harry shrugged. “The usual.”

“I, um…brought you a film. In case you were bored,” Zayn told him.

“What film?”

Zayn held up the DVD with a small smile. “I _really_ hope you’re not offended. I just thought… I don’t know.”

Harry laughed. “M’not offended.”

“Good,” Zayn said, taking a sip of his Coke.

“Are you drinking Coke?”

Zayn nodded. 

“Can I have some?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Zayn said before he could stop himself. He normally didn’t drink after people, or let people drink after him; something about germs and hygiene which was actually quite funny since he didn’t think twice about putting someone’s dick in his mouth, but. He walked over towards the side of the bed, handing Harry his cup.

“Can you stay? Watch the film with me?”

Zayn smiled. “You want me to stay?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’ll…put in the film, yeah?” Zayn couldn’t help but smile a little wider as Harry nodded, his curls bouncing, and he approached the television. He slid the DVD into the proper slot before returning to the couch. 

“Sit with me?” Harry asked.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Zayn said.

The smile slowly faded from Harry’s face and he looked down at his hands. “I’m not fragile, Zayn.”

“I know you’re not,” he said quickly. “I just…really don’t want to hurt you.”

“What if I told you that you were hurting my feelings by not sitting with me?” he asked with an exaggerated pout.

The corner of Zayn’s lips quirked upward. “You’re manipulating me,” he commented. “Using your big eyes and dimple against me, I see.”

“I would never,” Harry said with a smile. 

“Alright, budge up,” Zayn told him.

Harry scooted further to his right, leaning onto his side, as Zayn hoisted himself onto the small bed. He grabbed Zayn’s right arm and put it around his waist; Zayn went to pull away and Harry stopped him. “It’s fine,” Harry told him, pushing Zayn’s hand down towards his hip, to his gym shorts, where the burns receded, where it wouldn’t hurt. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, handing him the remote. “I like to snuggle—is that okay?”

Zayn nodded and let Harry curl up against his side. He felt Harry’s curls tickle against the side of his neck and he smiled again. It felt comfortable, safe, and right. He switched on the movie, turning the volume up just enough for them to hear, and he snuggled against the mattress, getting more comfortable. Harry threw a leg over Zayn’s, pulling him a little closer. “You’re warm,” he commented.

Harry went to scoot away, but Zayn’s hand on his waist stopped him. “Sorry.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he told him.

“Good. I apologize in advance. I find Heath Ledger quite fit, and I’ll probably say as much about thirty times during the film,” Harry admitted.

Zayn smiled, reaching over Harry to press the buttons the side of the bed, causing the mattress to lower a little bit more. It left them at the perfect angle to watch the screen, where the sun didn’t leave a harsh glare across it, and it caused Harry to snuggle up a little closer to his side. “S’alright. He is quite fit.”

“Not as fit as you,” he mumbled against Zayn’s chest, cheeks flushing lightly and, wow he really hoped that Zayn couldn’t see his face.

Zayn laughed lowly as the film began to play, and they fell into a comfortable silence. It was nice, watching a film with Harry. He was full of bad jokes and little comments that probably would have annoyed Zayn any other time, but it just fit with Harry, so he couldn’t complain. Throughout the film, Harry had snuggled even closer until he was halfway lying on top of Zayn. Zayn’s hand was resting on the small of his back, Harry’s skin warm against his palm, and Harry’s arm was around Zayn’s waist, and it was good. It was great.

“I love this movie,” Harry told him.

“S’one of my favorites,” Zayn agreed. “Liam and I have probably watched it thirty times.”

“I read the comics you left me.”

Zayn grinned, turning his head slightly to watch Harry’s reaction, though he couldn’t really see his face. “Ya like them?”

Harry nodded. “Made me feel a little better,” he said, pointing to the screen. The scene popped up where Harvey’s face was revealed after the accident, and Harry laughed lightly. “He probably shouldn’t have refused skin grafts.”

Zayn snorted and lifted his hand to hide his face. 

“What?” Harry asked with a grin, leaning up to rest his weight on his left forearm. 

Zayn shrugged. “Just think you’re funny.”

Harry flushed lightly. “Only one who says that.”

“Doubt I’m the only one who thinks it, though,” he offered.

Harry smiled. “Thanks for bringing in the film.”

“I thought you might not want to see me today,” Zayn admitted.

“Why’s that?”

Zayn shrugged. “After yesterday…”

Harry laughed softly, burying his face against Zayn’s chest. “Thought that might’ve creeped me out?”

“Yeah.”

“It didn’t,” Harry assured him, resting his chin against Zayn’s chest, their eyes meeting. 

Zayn smiled and he pushed a couple of curls out of Harry’s face. Harry’s cheeks flushed lightly and Zayn was suddenly overwhelmed with just a feeling of adoration for the boy next to him. He took in his long eyelashes, the dimple set into his left cheek, his full pink lips, the ink across his chest, the butterfly ( _moth, it’s a moth_ ) tattoo; he took in Harry’s _everything_ and it wasn’t just that he was devilishly attractive, it’s that he was nice and funny and Zayn honestly felt like he had known him for years, even though he hadn’t. And it wasn’t just adoration, it was fondness he felt for the boy. (But it was also a little bit of lust because Zayn could _not_ stop thinking about his mouth—it was a _problem._ )

“What?” Harry asked.

“Just thinking about what it’d be like to kiss you,” Zayn admitted quietly. He didn’t know why it had been easier to blurt out that he wanted to suck Harry off than it was to admit that he wanted to kiss him, but he couldn’t ignore the way his stomach was twisting while waiting for Harry’s response.

Harry’s smile widened and he picked at a loose thread on Zayn’s button up. “Think you should find out, yeah?” he suggested, his voice low. 

Zayn grinned. “Would that be okay?”

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod. 

Zayn leaned forward, pausing just enough for Harry to close the distance between them and press their lips together. Harry kissed the way he spoke, slow and gentle, taking his time, as if the world would stop just for that moment, even though it didn’t. Their lips fit together perfectly, Harry’s head tilting to the right just enough. Zayn savored the sensation, memorizing the way Harry felt against him, the way he tasted, sweet like summer and the sugar from Zayn’s coke he had stolen earlier. 

Zayn reached up and cupped Harry’s cheek with his left hand, his thumb brushing across the soft skin there and Harry sighed against his lips, content. Their lips moved together in sync, and Zayn couldn’t stop himself from parting his lips, nipping softly at Harry’s bottom lip. Harry’s lips parted instantly, tongue tentatively reaching out to touch Zayn’s, and it was just… Well, as far as first kisses went, it was pretty brilliant. Zayn tightened his hold around Harry’s waist and Harry pulled away with a gasp, Zayn’s fingers digging into his side right against his burns.

“Shit, shit, I’m _so_ sorry, Harry. I forgot—“

“It’s okay,” Harry told him quickly, interrupting his string of apologies. “S’not that bad. Just move your hand down a little bit.”

Zayn bit his bottom lip, glancing down. “If I move it any further down, I’ll be grabbing your arse,” he said.

Harry grinned, reaching up to push his curls out of his eyes. “S’that a bad thing?”

Zayn laughed, sliding his hand down slowly until it was resting just above the curve of Harry’s arse. “Better?”

“Much,” Harry said, leaning back in to kiss him again.

“Am I interrupting?”

Harry’s eyes shut briefly and he turned around, sitting up. His eyes landed on Louis, who was standing at the foot of the bed, a bag in hand and a frown on his face. Harry cleared his throat as he felt Zayn shift around him, and he reached for his hand, preventing him from standing up. “Louis. What are you doing here?”

Louis tossed the bag on the foot of the bed with a shrug. “Niall asked me to bring you some clothes since he was stuck at work. At this rate, I don’t think you’ll be needing them,” he muttered. 

“Don’t be rude,” Harry said quietly.

“I should go,” Zayn commented, standing up. He ran a hand through his hair and looked between Harry and Louis awkwardly. “I met you by the ice machine,” he said suddenly.

Louis cleared his throat. “You did.”

“You were flirting with me.”

“I wasn’t—“ Louis hesitated.

Harry looked down at his hands because, well, Louis _was_ a flirt. And it was never a big deal. But to hear that Louis had been flirting with someone in the hospital while Harry was lying yards away? 

“You were flirting with me while your boyfriend was lying here injured,” Zayn mused, pursing his lips. “Class act, you are.”

Louis scoffed. “Talk about class. You’re in here snogging your friend’s patient.”

“I can snog whomever I want,” Zayn told him. “It’s none of your business.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Louis snapped.

“Ex-boyfriend,” Harry corrected quietly. “Remember? You broke up with me in this room.”

“Didn’t take you too long to get over that, did it?” Louis asked.

Zayn shook his head. “On second thought, maybe I’ll stay. I don’t like the way you’re talkin’ to him, mate.”

“I’m not your mate,” Louis said with a frown. “And I think you should go.”

Harry sighed. “Thank you for dropping me off some clothes, Louis. That was nice of you.”

Zayn rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well,” Louis shrugged. “Didn’t really have a choice.”

Harry ran a hand over his hair. “Zayn, can you…” he trailed off, instantly regretting his words. The last thing he wanted was for Zayn to leave, but he also didn’t want him around when Louis was in one of his moods. It wouldn’t turn out well for anyone involved.

Zayn nodded slowly, biting the inside of his cheek. “Looks like you two have some stuff to sort out, yeah?”

“Something like that,” Louis muttered.

Zayn ignored him and leaned down to press his lips softly against Harry’s. 

“Will you come by tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Zayn promised. “Whenever Simon lets me out of the studio. I’ll bring lunch.”

“Okay,” Harry said with a smile. “Sorry, I—“

“You don’t have to explain,” Zayn told him, pressing his lips to Harry’s nose quickly before pulling away. “Text me later, yeah?”

Harry nodded and watched with a frown as Zayn walked out of the room. He sucked in a deep breath and turned to face Louis. “You didn’t have to be so rude.”

“You didn’t have to make out with him in your hospital bed, so I guess we’re even,” he told him.

“It’s not—Even for _what,_ Louis? You broke up with me. We’re broken up. If I want to snog half of London, I’ll snog half of London,” he replied. 

“I don’t like him.”

“You liked him well enough to flirt with him,” Harry commented. “Not to mention that you don’t _have_ to like him. You’re not the one interested in him.”

“When did you meet him?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Harry sighed. “About four days ago? Five? After we broke up, I know that much.”

Louis scoffed. “You’re ridiculous. We _just_ broke up, and you’re already snogging someone else.”

“You’ve no room to talk,” Harry snapped. “You broke up with me in a hospital, Louis. Because you didn’t think we were _working out_ and I know, I _know_ it’s because I’m going to be scarred and disfigured. And that doesn’t fit in with the world you want for yourself, right? You’re one of the beautiful ones, wanting the best that you can get, and that’s no longer me. And that’s _fine,_ really, because Zayn’s nothing like you. He doesn’t make me feel ugly or like I’m not good enough.”

“You barely know him.”

“Yet I like him more than I can stand you at this point,” he replied. “Seems kind of irrelevant, yeah? He’s nothing like you.”

Louis pursed his lips. “And is that why you like him?”

Harry hesitated. “I don’t know. I like him because I like him, because he makes me laugh, because he…brought me comics and a Batman movie and… He’s a good person. And I won’t have you making me feel bad about this. You broke up with me. You’ve no right to get mad if I found someone else,” he informed him.

“Yeah, well,” Louis said with a huff. “He looks like bad news.”

“Guess that’s something I’ll have to figure out on my own then, yeah?”

“He’ll hurt you.”

“Not more than you did.”

Louis’ eyes widened and he found himself nodding slowly. “I see.”

“Can you just…leave, please?”

“Gonna call Zayn and have him come running back?”

“No, it’s time for my evening bath,” Harry told him. “I get to have another layer of skin scrubbed off. I’m really looking forward to it.”

Louis nodded and he turned to walk out the door but he stopped himself. “I’m moving out.”

“That’s what Niall said.”

“Guess I’ll…see you around, then?”

“Probably.” Harry didn’t even bother responding to the small wave Louis sent him before walking out of the hospital room. He sucked in a deep breath, sighing heavily, and he instantly reached for his phone, sending Zayn a quick message; _Sooo sorry I asked you to leave. Didn’t want you to see me fight with him. Please forgive me?? .xx_

Zayn’s reply came not even two minutes later, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from Harry’s chest.

 **nothing to forgive, love. see you tomorrow? :) x**

 

+

 

“And so we’re kissing and then Louis walks in all, _oh am I interrupting something?_ Acting like he has any right at all to be mad at Harry,” Zayn rambled, digging his pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket. 

Liam nodded as they walked back towards their shared apartment. “Explains why Harry was in a mood the rest of the evening,” he muttered.

Zayn frowned, lighting up a cigarette and taking a slow drag. “It’s ridiculous, innit? He’s a right bastard.”

“Hmm,” Liam said, noncommittal. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Zayn asked, flicking his ashes on the ground before taking another drag from his cigarette. 

Liam shrugged. “Nothing. Continue with your story.”

“Right,” he said with a nod. “So this is the same guy that was flirting with me at the ice machine, yeah? Had the nerve to break up with someone like Harry. Who does that? And then tries to act like…” he trailed off. “He was so mean to Harry. S’not right, talkin’ to him like that, like Harry’s beneath him or summat.”

“Hmm,” Liam repeated.

Zayn groaned, rolling his eyes. “Out with it, Li. I know you wanna say summat so just do it.”

“I just think it’s interesting.”

“Interesting? He breaks up with Harry after he survives this horrific accident. And while his boyfriend is lying in a hospital bed, he’s flirting with other people. And then has the nerve to _break up_ with Harry,” he finished with a scoff. “S’ridiculous.”

“Now, now, Zayn, tell me how you really feel,” Liam said, throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Zayn rested his head on Liam’s shoulder. “I think Louis’ a bastard,” he repeated. “And I like Harry.”

“I can tell.”

“But I’m worried he’ll think I’m a rebound,” he admitted softly.

Liam nodded slowly. “Wanna know what I think?”

Zayn sighed, taking a long drag from his cigarette, flicking it to the ground. He stopped walking long enough to stamp it out. “Lay it on me, Payne.”

Liam laughed. “Okay, _Malik._ I think Harry’s a good lad. He’s sweet and funny, even if he’s a little insecure. But I have a feeling that if he didn’t want you around, he would say something.”

“I really like him,” Zayn mumbled. “I barely know him, but. I really like him.”

“I can tell. You’re not as suave as you normally are,” he teased.

Zayn frowned. “You’re not funny. And you’re a horrible best mate. I want a new one.”

Liam shook his head. “Sorry, I’m ineligible for return or trade-in at the Best Mate Store.”

“You’re not funny,” he repeated. 

“Yet you love me anyway.”

“Only ‘cause I have to,” Zayn insisted. 

“I say don’t overthink it,” Liam told him. “Just…go with it, yeah?”

Zayn sighed, reaching for his pack of cigarettes again.

“No, no,” Liam said, reaching for the pack and holding it over Zayn’s head. “You’ve had enough today.”

“Not nearly.”

“Don’t you have to record tomorrow?”

“No,” Zayn told. “Just mixing. Think it’s almost done, actually.”

“Does Simon agree?” 

Zayn sighed. “Probably not. He’s more of a perfectionist than I am. But I’m pleased with it so far.”

“It’ll be brilliant.”

“You have too much faith in me.”

Liam shrugged. “That’s what best mates are for, yeah? Still think you want to return me or trade me in?”

Zayn grinned. “Nah, guess I’ll keep ya for now.”

 

+

 

Harry woke up in a good mood the next morning. It was silly, probably a little bit ridiculous, but he was just in a good mood. He didn’t feel like stabbing Liam in the face during his bath (he never _really_ felt like stabbing Liam in the face; that was normally reserved for Mary Beth, but still) and he was just feeling _better._ His fingers were able to move a lot easier, with less pain, and he could feel that his body was starting to really heal, and it was great—wonderful, even, and he couldn’t stop _smiling._

“You’re doing quite well, Mr. Styles,” Dr. Grimshaw decided, thumbing through Harry’s chart. “How do you feel?”

Harry shrugged. “Better,” he told him. 

Dr. Grimshaw nodded and set his chart down. “Let’s have a look and see how you’re healing,” he said, washing his hands quickly with hand sanitizer before reaching for Harry’s arm. He inspected the burns slowly; the wounds were no longer open or fresh, the puckered skin was pulled tight against his skin. “The third degree burns on your neck will take the most time; they’ll the ones you’ll have to be more careful with. The ones on your hand will hurt more than your arm since the skin is more sensitive. But your arm is healing very nicely.”

“Really?” Harry asked.

“Really,” Dr. Grimshaw told him.

Harry smiled and turned to face Liam. “I’m healing nicely,” he repeated with a laugh.

Liam smiled widely, sending him a thumb’s up gesture.

Dr. Grimshaw smiled softly. “You’ll have to keep them covered for two weeks. There’s a special kind of bandage that you can use that can stay on for forty-eight hours. That means you can leave tomorrow—“

“Really?!”

“Hopefully,” he told him. “Like I said, you’re healing very well. Will you have someone able to change these bandages for you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered instantly, without thinking. Because, well, he definitely had Niall who would help him out. And he didn’t really have to ask for permission because well, what else were best mates for?

“Would he or she be able to stop in so I can show them either today or tomorrow?”

Harry nodded. “I’ll ring him today and see.”

Dr. Grimshaw smiled. “Good. I’ll have Liam bandage you up. Have him page me when you get in touch with your friend, and we’ll go from there, yeah?”

“Of course. Thank you so much, Dr. Grimshaw.” Harry’s smile didn’t leave his face as he watched the doctor leave the room and he couldn’t help but laugh as Liam walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t believe I get to go _home._ ”

“You’ll have to be careful and—“

“Don’t ruin this for me, Li, please,” Harry told him with a grin. 

Liam laughed. “I’ll use the regular bandage for now, and whenever Niall comes in, I’ll show him how to use the new one.”

“I can’t believe I get to go home,” he repeated. “I’ll get to sleep in my own bed.”

“Wanna ring Niall while I go get everything?”

Harry nodded enthusiastically as Liam left the room. He fumbled around for his mobile, pulling up his best mate’s name, and waiting for him to answer.

_”Hazza! I got two minutes. What’s up?”_

“Are you able to stop by after work today? They got some new bandages that I can use so I can go home tomorrow,” Harry told him.

_”Ya get to come home?!”_

“Yeah,” Harry said with a laugh. 

_”Yeah, mate, I’ll be there at half five.”_

“Brilliant. I’ll see you then.” Harry hung up with Niall to see that he had a text message waiting, and he couldn’t help but smile just a little bit wider when he saw that it was a message from Zayn.

**how are ya feelin today, love? x**

_Sooo much better! I get to leave tomorrow! .xxx_

**brilliant! I’ll be over after I’m done in the studio. any dinner requests? (: x**

Harry laughed as he texted Zayn back, and he heard Liam clear his throat as he walked back into the room. 

Liam deposited the bandages on the tray, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Harry. “What’s with the smile?”

“What smile?

Liam raised an eyebrow. 

“Just an…I’m happy smile,” he told him.

“Mhmm.”

“I was texting Zayn,” he admitted.

“You two have been talking a lot lately, yeah?” he asked, covering Harry’s arm with a thick layer of silvadene cream as gently as he could. 

“Is that alright?” Harry countered, his voice slow, because Zayn was Liam’s best friend. And he didn’t know either of them _very_ well, but he wanted to. But he also didn’t want to step on any toes or make Liam uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” Liam said with a nod. He unwrapped the gauze and started with Harry’s hand, wrapping up his palm and forearm, making his way up towards his bicep. “Zayn’s a good lad. I can tell he likes you.”

Harry smiled, looking over at Liam and pushing some his curls out of his face. “Ya think so?”

Liam nodded. “I know so,” he replied. “You like him, too?”

“Yeah, I do,” Harry said softly. “I—He’s… He’s brilliant.”

“He is,” Liam agreed with a smile. 

“I don’t want him to think he’s a rebound,” he said suddenly as Liam wrapped the gauze around his shoulder, securing it with paper tape. “I—It’s, I mean, you don’t choose when you meet someone, yeah?”

“Right.”

Harry paused. “You’re his best mate. What do you think?”

“I think you’re both on the same page,” Liam told him. “If you spend too much time worrying about whether or not it’s the right time, how you _should_ be feeling, then you could miss out on something really great, yeah?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Yeah.”

“Y’alright?” he asked, fixing the bandages around Harry’s neck before moving down to his ribs. 

“Yeah, just,” Harry sighed. “Haven’t really liked someone in a while. S’always been Louis.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Harry shrugged, lifting up his arm so Liam could wrap up the burns on his ribs. “Louis’ a good person, he is,” he started. “But… I’ve never met someone who could make me feel so good about myself one minute and so horrible the next,” he explained slowly. “He said we hadn’t been working out, but we _had._ I know he only broke up with me because he couldn’t stand seeing me—“

“Do you think he couldn’t stand seeing you hurt?” Liam interrupted.

“No,” Harry said with a sigh. “I mean, maybe that’s part of it. But it was more than that. And I know our relationship wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t. We fought more often than not. And Louis would get in moods, I would get in moods, it was… We fought a lot, but I know he loved me.”

“Sometimes it just doesn’t work out, yeah?” 

Harry nodded. “Zayn’s stopping by later.”

“After he’s done in the studio?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t happen to have any of his stuff I could listen to?” Harry asked with a wide grin.

Liam laughed loudly, shaking his head. “You should just wait for the album.”

“Is he famous in London?”

“He’s got fans,” Liam told him. “He books a fair amount of shows. He also DJs.”

“So he does a little bit of everything?”

“Yup,” he agreed. “Jack of all trades, Zayn is. And talented at everything he pursues.”

“So what’s his flaw?” Harry asked. “We all have ‘em. He’s ridiculously fit, talented at everything, so what’s his flaw?”

“Don’t wanna find out on your own?” Liam quested with a raised brow.

Harry smiled, biting on the inside of his cheek. “You know how there are some people who always want to know the ending of a movie or a book?”

Liam nodded.

“That’s me.”

“You’ll never get it out of me,” he told him. 

Harry pouted. “You’re mean.”

 

+

 

“So now that you’re coming home, does that mean you’ll start cookin’ for me again?” Niall asked as he bounced into the hospital room, throwing his snapback towards Harry.

Harry caught it and placed it on his head backwards. “Maybe,” he told him. 

“I think the first celebratory meal should be that chicken stir-fry you make, the one with all the vegetables that should be gross but is actually delicious,” Niall replied. “And maybe you could bake a pie!”

“You want a pie?” Harry asked slowly.

“Apple. No! Blueberry!”

Harry hesitated. “A…blueberry pie? Is that even a thing?”

“What about key lime? Can ya do that?”

“A key lime pie? I’m pretty sure that’s a bit more difficult than apple.”

“We’ll work up to it,” Niall said with a definitive nod. 

Harry laughed. “You’re unhinged.”

Niall shrugged. “A little bit. So let’s talk about Louis.”

“Liam will be here to show us how this whole bandage thing works any minute—“

“Then we’ll talk about Louis until he gets here.”

Harry sighed. “What did he tell you?”

“That he caught you snogging with some ridiculously hot guy—whom I can only guess is that Zayn fellow I met earlier—and now he’s staying with El until he can find a new flat,” Niall told him. 

Harry shrugged. “Maybe it’s better off he’s stayin’ with El. I won’t have to see ‘im as much.”

Niall pursed his lips. “Y’alright?”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Don’t see why he’s so upset. He broke up with me, yeah?”

“Right,” Niall agreed. “Anyway, he’s got most of his stuff moved out. We can look for a new flat if you want,” he told him. 

“No, s’fine. No point in that.”

“Barbara’s called about a billion times askin’ when you’ll be back.”

Harry smiled. “She misses me almost as much as I miss the bakery.”

“Misses pinchin’ your bum, more like,” Niall said with a laugh.

“Not much to pinch,” Harry said with a shy smile.

“I can say with absolute certainty that’s a lie,” Zayn announced as he walked into the hospital room.

Harry’s cheeks flushed as he turned to face Zayn. “Hi.”

Zayn smiled, setting two bags of McDonald’s on the tray by Harry’s bed. “Per your request,” he said with a smile. “What’s with the snapback?”

“S’mine,” Niall said, reaching over to tug it off of Harry’s head, messing up his curls in the process. 

“Heeeey,” Harry drew out with a pout, reaching up to fix his hair. 

Zayn nodded and watched Harry for a minute, overwhelmed with the desire to want to kiss him. They didn’t have a relationship, and he didn’t even know where they stood exactly, but seeing Harry with his ruffled curls and bright eyes, and he just wanted to _kiss him._

“Good to see you, mate,” Niall said with a grin. 

“Same, mate,” Zayn told him. “So are we celebrating the fact that you get to leave tomorrow?”

Harry nodded, curls bouncing. “Liam’s gonna show Niall how to change my bandages so I don’t have to stay here forever. Don’t’ get me wrong, Liam’s a gem, but I hate this place,” he said with a laugh. 

Zayn laughed. “He’s more of a gem outside these walls, I assure you.”

“I believe you. How was the studio?” Harry asked.

“Brilliant,” Zayn said, his grin widening. “It’s—almost there. I can feel it. Simon’s happy and that’s—that’s rare.”

Harry smiled. “When can I hear it?”

“You’re a musician?”

“Singer. Songwriter,” he added as an afterthought. “But, mainly singer.”

“Brilliant,” Niall grinned. “When can I hear it?”

“Soon,” Zayn said with a laugh.

“He gets to hear it before me?” Harry asked with a pout. 

Zayn sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and reached for Harry’s phone and pulling his own out of his pocket. He fiddled with his own for a few minutes, before doing the same to Harry’s, and he handed it back to him.

Harry scrolled through the screen, a couple of audio files already in his iTunes, and he looked up at Zayn with a smile. “Zayn—“

“They’re the rough copies. Not anything we’ve been working on this past week, but,” he shrugged. “If you’re interested.”

“I am interested,” Harry told him, cheeks flushing.

Zayn nodded slowly, biting his lip. “Good.”

“You lot are disgusting,” Niall grumbled. “Can ya flirt when m’not here?”

Zayn laughed. “No promises, mate,” he said with a wink.

Harry groaned and pulled his pillow over his face. “Oh, god.”

“Bad time?” Liam asked as he walked in, giving Zayn a quick hug. “Don’t tell me he’s trying to suffocate himself. He was too excited to leave.”

“He’s not,” Zayn assured him, waling over to Harry and pulling the pillow off of his face. He leaned in quickly, barely brushing their lips together. “Right?”

“Not suffocating myself at all,” Harry agreed with a smile. 

Zayn grinned, ruffling Harry’s hair. “Good.” 

Harry reached up and grabbed Zayn’s hand, lacing their fingers together. It was easy, being with Zayn, and he couldn’t explain why. It was almost as if they fell into one another and everything _fit._ He wasn’t second guessing himself and, after Liam’s little pep talk, he didn’t feel as weird about it. (He didn’t really feel _weird,_ but now he felt like he and Zayn were on the same page. And that—that was a relief.)

“Niall, you don’t have a weak stomach, do you?” Liam asked.

Niall frowned. “I haven’t seen ‘im without the bandages so I guess we’ll find out.”

“You don’t have to stay for this,” Harry said softly to Zayn, looking down at their entwined hands. 

Zayn squeezed his hand tighter. “I want to stay.”

“It’s gonna look gross,” Harry told him.

“Good thing I don’t have a weak stomach then, yeah?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Y’sure?”

“Yeah,” Zayn said, pressing his lips to Harry’s temple. 

 

+

 

Harry was ecstatic to finally, _finally_ be leaving the hospital. Though, he would admit freely that he was definitely going to miss Liam. He had grown accustomed to seeing him every day. But if things continued to work out with Zayn, as he hoped they would, then he would probably still see Liam. Most definitely, actually. 

Niall had even taken the day off—and he never did that, not really. He took off time when Harry first got to the hospital, but he tried to work as much as he could. His job was easy, messin’ around at a record store and playing at a bar on the weekends whenever he and his mate Ed could get a slot, but he loved it. And Harry missed he bakery, he really did, and he couldn’t wait to get back into the swing of things. 

(He knew Barbara was going to coddle him more than his own mother and—oh, shit, his _mother;_ he’d barely talked to her or Gemma since the accident. They weren’t exactly well off so they didn’t have the funds to get to London, but he figured he could Skype with them whenever he got home.)

By the time he got to his room, he froze in the doorway. 

“Oh,” Niall said quietly. “He… I didn’t know, Harry, I swear—“

“No, I know,” Harry interrupted quickly. “I know.”

Niall sighed, pulling his snapback off and running a hand through his fading blond locks. “I’ll call him and—“

“No,” Harry said with a shrug. “I’ll just… At least he left my clothes and stuff, yeah?” he offered with a soft grin. He stepped further into the room, letting the handle of his bag drop from his left hand and onto the hardwood floor. Louis moved out, it was obvious, because there was literally nothing of his—or _theirs_ —in the room; he had taken it upon himself to clear it out, from the closet that was now only half-full with Harry’s clothes to the chest of drawers, the nighstand, and even the bed. He left the two bookshelves filled with Harry’s books, CDs, and knick knacks, even folding up his clothes and placing them in tubs so they didn’t lie on the dirty floor. It wasn’t a big deal to Harry, Louis taking the bed and the furniture, they were just matieral items, but they had represented _them,_ whoever _they_ had been, and now he felt…empty. 

“I’ll look online and see if we can find you a cheap bed or something, yeah?”

“S’fine,” Harry insisted. “I’ve got enough in savings to find something…”

Niall sighed and his eyes were drawn to an envelope that was resting on the blanket and pillows set against one of the walls. He crossed the room and picked it up, ignoring Harry’s name on the front. “Bastard left you a note, the nerve,” he grumbled, ripping it open and pulling out a piece of paper and a check. He scoffed. “Left money for rent for the next three months—“

“What’s the paper?”

Niall didn’t open it, he just shrugged. “You sure you want to read this?”

Harry nodded, walking over to Niall and taking the paper out of his hands. He folded it carefully and shoved it into his back pocket. “Do we still have that old air mattress?”

“You’re not sleeping on an air mattress, Harry,” Niall told him.

Harry sighed. “I will tonight. Tomorrow, if I’m feeling up to it, I’ll go look for something. And I want to stop by and see Barbara—“

“Isn’t it too soon to be goin’ back?”

“It’s been over two weeks, Ni,” Harry told him. “I’ve got to do _something._ ”

Niall nodded. “Don’t go if you’re not feelin’ up to it, yeah? Did you get your prescriptions filled?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t really need them.”

Niall stuck out his hand. “Give ‘em. I’ll drop ‘em off before work tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Harry said with a sigh, handing him the slips of paper that Liam had given up before he left. 

“I’ll get the air mattress. How are you feeling?”

“M’feeling alright, actually.”

“What do you want for supper?”

Harry smiled. “What do you want me to make for supper?”

Niall laughed. “Whatever ya want? We don’t have a lot of groceries. Should probably run by Tescos—“

“I’ll find something to make,” Harry promised. 

Niall nodded and walked over towards the door, hesitating before he turned back to face Harry. “M’glad you’re home, mate.”

“Me, too, Ni.”

 

+

 

“I’m having a crisis,” Zayn announced as Liam threw open the door to his flat.

Liam eyed the handful of clothes in Zayn’s arms, moving aside so his best mate could walk in. He watched as Zayn tossed his clothes onto the couch, adjusting them and lying them all flat. “I can see that.”

“What should I wear?” Zayn asked, hands on his hips.

“Probably a shirt,” Liam noted, taking in his best mate’s bare chest, tight jeans slung low on his hips, his scuffed combat boots.

Zayn frowned. “You’re not funny.”

“I’m very funny,” Liam told him. 

Zayn sighed. “Yes, Liam, you’re very funny. Now can you handle my crisis please?” 

“Of course,” Liam said with a grin. “What’s your crisis?”

“What should I _wear_?” Zayn repeated with a groan. “Harry invited us over for dinner—“

“Us?” he interrupted.

Zayn sighed again, rolling his eyes. “Yes, _us._ I don’t know what to wear.”

“M’sure he’ll like whatever you pick out.”

“I don’t want Harry to just _like_ what I’m wearing, Li. I want to look good—“

“Zayn,” Liam interrupted, walking over to him and grabbing his shoulders. “You don’t have to impress Harry. Harry already likes you.”

Zayn sucked in a deep breath. “You think so?”

“Yes, Zayn. He’s told me, you know. There’s…nurse and patient confidentiality or summat, but—he does. Not to mention, I heard that someone caught you two snogging on his hospital bed—“

“What?” Zayn sputtered, cheeks flushing. “That’s—That’s absurd. We didn’t—we did,” he said with a sigh. 

Liam grinned and he turned towards the couch, pulling out a shirt that declared _I cuddle on the first date_ and handed it to Zayn. “Just wear this. We’re not going anywhere fancy, yeah?”

“Just his flat,” Zayn told him.

“Then be comfortable. He’s not going to care about what you’re wearing.”

Zayn nodded, pulling the shirt over his head. “I’ve already cuddled with him, so I think we’re okay,” he mumbled.

Liam smiled as he watched his best mate fuss with his hair. It had been a while since he had seen Zayn nervous about anything, including when he found out that he was going to be making an album. Nothing made Zayn nervous—not performing in front of thousands of people or photo shoots or being in magazines or talked about on social media about his questionable sexuality—nothing. So to see Zayn fretting about what to wear because he wanted to impress Harry, it was new, but it was refreshing.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Zayn muttered.

“M’not, I promise.”

“You should get dressed, too. It’s not a sweatpants kind of night,” he told him.

Liam nodded but made no effort to move.

“What?” Zayn snapped.

Liam’s eyebrows rose.

He sighed. “Sorry, Li, just…”

“Nervous?”

Zayn nodded.

“I know,” Liam said. “It’s nice, yeah? I haven’t seen you like someone in a while.”

“Yeah, well,” Zayn said with a sigh. “We know how _that_ turned out.”

“Harry’ll be good for you. I can feel it.”

“I want to be good for him, though,” he admitted quietly. “Is that weird?”

“Not at all,” Liam said. 

Zayn smiled softly, pulling on his jean jacket. “I like him.”

Liam laughed.

“I’m gonna go have a smoke while you change. Meet you at the car?”

 

+

 

Dinner was the complete opposite of a disaster; a smashing success or something equally as lame to express. Harry had made chicken parmesan and Niall had three helpings, of course, and Harry drank a little bit of wine, even though he wanted more. Liam had insisted that he only have one glass, not wanting him to mix his medications and alcohol, which caused Zayn to laugh and call him _mother_ for about twenty minutes. But then Zayn felt bad when Liam was called to work, some sort of emergency and he ran off quickly, ruffling Harry’s hair before he did so. Harry shifted a little closer to Zayn on the couch then, their legs brushing together as they watched a movie with Niall. 

“I should probably change your bandages before my gig tonight,” Niall said suddenly, fiddling with his mobile. 

“Yeah, probably,” Harry said with a sigh. “Meet you in the—“

“I can do it,” Zayn offered.

“No, Zayn—“

“Thanks for offering, mate,” Niall said with a grin. 

Harry frowned, shaking his head. “No, Zayn, you’re not doing it. It was nice of you to offer but—“

“Why not?” Zayn asked. 

“Do you even know how to do it?” he snapped and, shit, Harry didn’t _mean_ to, he really didn’t. he just—

“Yeah, I had Liam show me,” Zayn said quietly. 

Harry hesitated and scooted further back on the couch. “You—You had Liam show you?” 

Zayn nodded slowly. “Yeah, I—“ he paused. “I wanted to know. Offer to help, so Niall didn’t have to do it all the time, so… So we could see each other a little more,” he finished with a shrug. “I don’t have to, if you’re not comfortable with that.”

“No, I,” Harry stopped, running a hand over his curls. He turned to face Niall, who just shrugged, and yeah, that was Niall, one of those _fight your own battles_ (unless it was Louis and then and then he was a little bit more eager to help Harry fight that particular battle). “Do you want to?” he asked quietly.

“If it won’t make you uncomfortable, yes,” Zayn told him. 

“It won’t,” Niall interrupted, standing up and grabbing his wallet and keys from the coffee table. “I’ll be back in a bit, yeah, Haz?”

“Okay,” Harry said quietly, watching his best mate leave. He was left alone with Zayn, which wasn’t a problem, it really wasn’t. But Zayn—Zayn asked Liam to show him how to change Harry’s bandages, and Harry didn’t know how to react to that. It was—Hell, Louis didn’t even want to _see_ Harry when he was injured, and Zayn went out of his way to… Fuck. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“You didn’t,” Harry insisted. “You really didn’t, I promise. I’m—It’s—I can’t believe you had Liam show you how to do it,” he said softly.

Zayn reached over for Harry’s hand, the uninjured one, and laced their fingers together. “I wanted to know,” he told him. 

“You wanted to know for me?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Zayn replied. 

“It’s gonna look gross.”

Zayn rolled his eyes and leaned forward so he could brush their lips together. And part of him did wish that Harry was healed, completely, so he could curl against his body, run his hands over the length of his spine, everything, but he wasn’t—and that was okay, because Zayn could wait. Zayn could wait until Harry was healed; it would be difficult but, he could. “It doesn’t make you gross,” Zayn told him quietly. “Okay? Your skin is gonna heal. And you’ll always look perfect to me, okay?”

Harry flushed. “You’re a sap.”

“Probably,” Zayn admitted.

“You don’t think it’s gross?”

Zayn shrugged. “Let’s go see what it looks like, yeah? Then we’ll decide.”

Harry was silent as he led Zayn towards the bathroom. He found the bandages, the salve, and the tape, and other supplies, before motioning for Zayn to follow him into his room. He closed the door behind them, as if he could actually close out the world, and he set the materials down on his air mattress. He sucked in a deep breath and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He sunk down on the floor and looked up at Zayn from under his eyelashes.

“You ready?” Zayn asked, sitting on the floor next to Harry.

Harry nodded.

Zayn pursed his lips and untied the laces of his Converse, kicking them aside. He cracked his knuckles and looked over at the supplies, frowning. “You sleep on an air mattress?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s—That can’t be comfortable, not with how sore you are,” Zayn muttered.

“S’not,” Harry admitted.

“You…don’t have a bed?”

“Louis took it, along with the rest of the furniture.”

“He what?”

“Can we not talk about it, please?” Harry asked with a sigh.

Zayn nodded slowly. 

“It’s just… I haven’t had time to go get new furniture. I will. S’not too bad. I’ll probably go tomorrow and try to find something,” he explained.

“Okay,” Zayn said. “Are you—?“

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Go for it.”

Zayn sucked in a deep breath as he slowly rolled down the adhesive bandage from Harry’s arm. It wasn’t sticky, not exactly, but more like a tubular gauze that held his bandage in place without using too much tape. He set it on the bed and picked up the scissors, cleaning them quickly with an alcohol swab. He spared a glance up at Harry, whose green eyes were shut tightly, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and he turned his arm over. He cut along the length of the bandage underneath his arm, careful to avoid the burns that he had nearly memorized since meeting Harry, and he didn’t stop until he reached his armpit. He set the scissors down and carefully removed the bandages; when he heard Harry hiss, he froze.

“No, keep going,” Harry insisted, jaw clenched.

“You alright?” Zayn asked as he continued to peel away the bandage. When he was finished, he tossed it aside, and peeled off the bandage that was attached to Harry’s ribs and the side of his neck. He rolled them up and tossed them in the rubbish bin before turning back to Harry. And he knew Harry had a high pain tolerance, it was obvious, but he could see the tears pricking his eyelids and he leaned forward, brushing his lips across Harry’s brow. “M’sorry, love, I know it hurts.”

Harry nodded, reaching his left hand up to wipe furiously at his eyes. “I’ll rub the salve on, just gimme a minute.”

“I’ll do it,” Zayn told him. 

“Zayn—“

“Let me take care of you,” he insisted.

“I know you say they don’t bother you, but they’re ugly. And they’re gross. And I don’t want you to see them,” Harry said, his voice soft.

“Too late,” Zayn said with a small laugh. He picked up the salve and coated his fingers with it thickly before picking up Harry’s hand, He rubbed the salve in gently, massaging the skin as easily as he could. Liam said it would help with the pain, being gentle and taking his time. And judging by the look on Harry’s face, it wasn’t that painful; it probably didn’t feel great, but—Harry didn’t look like he was in pain. “How’s that?”

“S’not too bad.”

Zayn smiled and he finished Harry’s arm, moving to the side of his neck. He tried not to be too distracted, but it was hard, because Harry was gorgeous, and he smelled great, and he was shirtless. And Zayn, he was twenty-two and around an attractive man and, well. He tried not to be _too distracted._ He lifted up Harry’s arm and rubbed the salve against his ribs; he could tell those burns were almost healed, the skin tight and pink, but he wasn’t taking any chances, so he lathered the salve on thickly. When he was done, he picked up an alcohol swab and cleaned his hands off, wiping them off onto his jeans. 

Harry opened one of his eyes, still wincing. “Does that feel weird?”

“Not really,” Zayn said with a shrug.

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Okay, a little,” he admitted with a small laugh. “Is it weird if I say it felt kind of cool?”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe. You can cover it now.”

“Not yet,” Zayn said.

Harry opened up both eyes, rubbing them with the back of his hand. “I can do it if—“

“If nothing,” he interrupted. “Just…let it breathe for a minute, yeah?”

Harry sighed. “I’m not sure if it’s supposed to.”

“Liam said it wouldn’t be bad if it did,” Zayn told him. 

“How long?”

Zayn smiled at Harry’s wide, innocent eyes. Harry was taller than him, just a little, but he still looked _so small._ He curled in on himself, almost, as if he was trying to block out the world. And Zayn knew that wasn’t him, not really, and it was quickly becoming his mission to bring Harry out of that shell. “Long enough for me to do this,” Zayn told him before leaning forward and pressing his lips against Harry’s. 

Harry was surprised, but he kissed back instantly, his eyes slipping shut. Zayn’s hand cradled the back of his neck, the uninjured side, fingertips slipping up near his hairline. Harry moaned softly and he could feel his cheeks flush, but he wasn’t quite as embarrassed as he should’ve been. Zayn’s other hand was resting on his knee, comforting in a way, and it was…

It was weird. Zayn was in Harry’s room, the room he had shared with Louis. And even though Louis had broken up with him (in the hospital, no less) and they were No Longer Together, he still felt—

Zayn pulled away slowly. “Please don’t think about Louis when I’m kissing you.”

“How did you—“

“I can tell,” Zayn told him. “You get all tense and distracted.”

“I’m sorry—“

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted. “Just… He’s not here, yeah? He broke up with you. He took your furniture. He…is a bloody idiot. And me, I’m here, okay? I’m not Louis. I’m not going to leave you unless you want me to.”

“You barely know me.”

“Then let me _get_ to know you. I can’t do that if you’re constantly internally comparing me to him,” Zayn explained with a heavy sigh. He rested his forehead against Harry’s, fingers tangling in his curls. “I just…want you to know that I want to be here.”

“You don’t…feel like you have to be? Because of Liam or something?” Harry asked.

Zayn practically felt his heart swell, and he cupped Harry’s face in his hands. “I don’t feel like I _have_ to do anything,” he said. “I didn’t know you were Liam’s patient at first, did I? All I knew was that there was a very fit guy sitting alone and… You’re not alone. You’ve got Niall, Liam, me—You’re. I _want_ to be here,” he repeated. “I quite like you.”

Harry smiled softly. “You do?”

“I wouldn’t learn how to use these bandages and whatnot for just anyone,” he teased.

Harry leaned forward and kissed him quickly. “Hurry up and finish so I can kiss you some more.”

“So demanding,” Zayn said with a grin, pulling away and reaching for the bandages. “I tell you that I like you and you don’t even say it back. No, you just demand I wrap your burns and feed you grapes—“

“Bananas.”

“What?”

Harry laughed. “You can feed me bananas, not grapes.”

Zayn grinned and rolled his eyes. “See? That’s exactly what I mean,” he told him, finishing with the bandages before sliding the tubular gauze over his arm, securing everything in place. He pulled out his mobile quickly, snapping a picture and sending it to Liam ( _did a bang up job, mate! thx for the lessons .x_ before throwing everything away. He made it a total of two minutes before Harry was reaching for his leg, tugging him down onto the air mattress, before climbing next to him. He curled up to Zayn’s side, careful of his burns, and smiled up at him.

“Thank you,” Harry told him.

Zayn grinned, running his fingers through Harry’s curls. “For what?”

“Everything. And…I quite like you, too.”

“I know,” Zayn told him, pulling him closer and brushing their lips together. “How could you not?”

Harry laughed, slapping him on the side. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Zayn reached behind him for the pillow, tucking it under his head and getting comfortable. “Am I?”

“Yes. I don’t allow boys who aren’t cute on my air mattress.”

“Then I’m definitely very, very lucky,” Zayn agreed with a smile. “Now, I believe you mentioned kissing…”

 

+

 

When Zayn woke up, his lips were raw and chapped, and Harry was curled against his side. Harry’s arm was wrapped tightly around Zayn’s waist, bunched under his shirt, and his breath warm against Zayn’s neck. Harry’s mouth was open in a pout, his lips red and swollen, and Zayn couldn’t help but smile and think that, yeah, _I did that._ His curls were flat, matted against his forehead, and Zayn reached up to brush them away. Harry snuffled against the side of his neck, throwing a leg across Zayn’s hips and pulling him closer. 

Zayn smiled to himself, sliding a hand across the knobs of Harry’s spine. He watched as he shifted again, yawning and stretching, his eyes fluttering open. “Morning, sunshine.”

Harry pouted and groaned, snuggling closer to Zayn as if he could escape the world just by being in his arms. “Too early.”

“It’s half ten,” Zayn pointed out as Harry pressed against him. “It’s—“

“I—“ Harry froze and quickly pulled away from Zayn, rolling over onto his stomach. “I’m sorry, I—“

“It’s okay, Harry—“

“No, it’s _embarrassing_ and—“

“It’s not—“

“I’m an adult. I haven’t gotten off in weeks but that’s no excuse. I should not wake up next to a fit lad with a hard on the size of Texas,” Harry said slowly, reaching for his pillow and dragging it over his head with an exaggerated groan. 

Zayn stood up and stretched, walking over to the door and locking it. He turned back to Harry and tugged his shirt over his head, tossing it to where he had discarded his jeans the night before because, well, there was _no way_ he was going to sleep in jeans. He climbed back onto the air mattress, straddling Harry’s hips. “Roll over.”

Harry groaned but did as Zayn requested, rolling over with a pout. He tried to hide his semi, he did, but it was difficult when he was just wearing flimsy little boxer briefs while Zayn was straddling his lap. “It’s embarrassing,” he repeated.

“It’s a compliment, if anything,” Zayn insisted, leaning down to kiss Harry’s neck.

“You’re not helping,” Harry told him.

Zayn smiled, nosing behind his ear and he felt Harry tremble. “You sure?”

Harry nodded. “Very sure.”

“You want me to stop?” Zayn asked, leaning away, sitting back on Harry’s hips. 

Harry sighed. He wanted to tell Zayn yes, that he should stop, that it was a bad idea. But he didn’t want to. And it wasn’t just because he hadn’t really been able to get off in weeks, but that was part of it. It was because… Well, it was Zayn. And he had wormed his way into Harry’s life when he needed someone the most, he had become an anchor, something that Harry could hold onto—something he _had_ held on to, through good news and bad. 

It would’ve been so easy to say no, whether it was because it was too much or too soon or because of Louis, _fucking Louis_ still finding a way to potentially ruin everything good that Harry had. Because it was hard for Harry to say yes, accept the good things in his life without question, believe that he deserved it, that he deserved Zayn. And Zayn was gorgeous, fit, talented, and a complete and utter nerd; everything just lined up perfectly with the two of them, and it was scary. Because Harry never really fit anywhere, never having a particular set of friends besides Niall and sometimes Louis, but then there was Zayn.

Zayn who came in and swept him up and away with one short and stilted conversation before joining him in his room with food, talking about music and movies, making Harry laugh about his biggest insecurity. Zayn who made Harry comfortable, who had taken it upon himself to learn how to change Harry’s bandages which _shouldn’t_ have been such a big deal, but it was, because Louis couldn’t even stand to look at him, and then. And then Zayn would lie with him, cuddle him, snuggle him, sleep next to him, and fucking _kiss him_ in the hospital room because he wasn’t disgusted by Harry’s scars in the same way that Louis was.

And it was—

“Stop overthinking,” Zayn whispered. 

“I can’t help it,” he admitted.

Zayn leaned down, mindful of Harry’s side and how sensitive it still was, and he pressed their foreheads together. “Don’t overthink us, okay?”

Harry sucked in a deep breath and nodded, because Zayn wanted him, Zayn _liked_ him, and fuck. He liked Zayn, too, and he wanted Zayn to be with him, stay there, never leave his side or the silly little air mattress that was slowly deflating underneath their weight. He wanted Zayn in his flat, in his room, his hair product across the bathroom and his silly leather jacket thrown over Harry’s pile of clothes in the corner. He wanted Zayn’s books and albums lining his bookshelves, their socks lost together in a drawer to where they didn’t know, couldn’t even tell whose was whose. He wanted Zayn, permanently, and that thought scared the shit out of him. “I won’t,” he whispered, because he desperately didn’t want to. He didn’t want to overthink; he wanted to live in the moment and enjoy it the way that Niall did so frequently. 

Zayn smiled, fitting their lips together. Harry fit beneath him, beside him, everywhere, and it was so good, so perfect. Harry fit next to him physically, mentally, emotionally; he just… _fit._ And Zayn kissed Harry slowly, thoroughly, in the only way that he could to show how much he wanted to be there, how much he cared, just… Zayn was okay with words, not the best, but he was okay; he could write poems and songs and they would be great, be played on the radio, whatever. But it was different when the person was right in front of him, when he didn’t have time to rehearse and gather his thoughts. Harry threw him for a loop in that way, because Zayn needed to gather his thoughts, to put into words how wonderful and perfect and fit and amazing that he thought Harry was. But at the exact same time, he didn’t need to, because he knew that he could just _show_ him. 

Harry slid his hands across Zayn’s back, against the knobs of his spine, across the tattoo between his shoulder blades that he may or may not have memorized after looking up pictures of Zayn on Google after a day or boredom in the hospital. (It wasn’t really his fault, he really did just want to find out more about him and his music—and the photo shoots, those weren’t bad—at all. And he didn’t learn all that much, just about his sisters and his start in music, not enough for him to really _know_ Zayn. But he figured that he would have enough time for that later.) Zayn rolled their hips together slowly, causing a small and embarrassing moan to slip past Harry’s lips, causing his cheeks to flush as Zayn’s lips moved from his mouth to his jaw, the side of his neck, his collarbone, just above the swallow tattoos. 

Zayn also had to take his own advice, telling himself not to overthink his actions as he made his way down Harry’s abdomen. (For someone who hadn’t left a hospital bed for a couple of weeks, he sure didn’t _look_ like it. His chest was long, clean lines, a visible definition of abs that had Zayn going crazy, ink smattered across his hips and—fuck, his _hips._ ) Harry’s breathing hitched, his fingers brushing past Zayn’s hair, around his jaw, gripping his shoulder; his fingernails dug into the tan skin as Zayn’s lips ghosted around his navel, his tongue tracing the thin trail of hair leading towards the fabric of his pants. 

“Zayn—“ Harry started as he tried to pull him up. 

Zayn rested his weight on his palms, staring up at Harry. “What?”

“You don’t have to,” he whispered.

Zayn smiled, ducking back down to pull Harry’s pants over his slip hips, his thighs, tossing them somewhere over his shoulder—he really didn’t _care._ “I know,” he told him. He crawled back between Harry’s legs, kissing a line up the inside of his thigh. 

Harry huffed out a breath, a slight laugh that he couldn’t really control. “You sure?”

“Let me take care of you,” Zayn whispered, looking up at Harry. When Harry didn’t respond, he wrapped his fingers carefully around the base of his swollen cock, jerking him off slowly. 

Harry’s head fell back against the pillow, and he wished he had the strength to hold himself up, to watch as Zayn’s pink lips stretched around the head of his cock, the way his golden eyes would flutter shut if he thrust his hips upward. But he couldn’t, and a voice in his head was saying _maybe next time_ and, okay—maybe that could be a thing that happened, _maybe._ And maybe it would, because Zayn wanted to stay, and Harry wanted him to stay, and blow jobs could easily be a thing that happened—he would be _very_ okay with that. 

Zayn tongued the head of Harry’s cock, slipping down over his length. Harry reached up, pushing the soft hair away from Zayn’s forehead, tangling in the thick strands as Zayn went deeper, taking more of him easily and, fuck—that was, that was _hot._ Harry arched his back, hissing in pain, and Zayn pulled back quickly, running the back of his hand over his lips.

“Y’alright?” he asked, gold eyes wide with worry.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, yeah, more than,” he said. “Just—moved wrong.”

“I can—Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” he admitted softly, his cheeks flushing.

“No! No, it’s a good idea—very good,” Harry told him. “Just—haven’t had one of these in a while.”

Zayn smiled softly. “Really?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. S’nice, really nice,” he added lamely. 

“Good,” Zayn said with a small laugh. “M’just gonna…” he trailed off, motioning towards Harry’s cock.

“Right, right,” Harry said. “Um… Yeah.”

Zayn laughed softly before resuming his position, lips stretched around Harry, tonguing the slit and jerking Harry off slowly. Harry was a mess of moans and sighs, fingers clenching Zayn’s hair as his hips arched off the bed slowly. Zayn didn’t bother holding him back; he wanted Harry to enjoy himself, lose himself in the moment—whatever. He wanted to make it good for him, better than good if it was possible, and Zayn was nothing if not a perfectionist. 

“Zayn, m’gonna—“

Zayn relaxed his jaw, taking Harry in as far as he could, and Harry tugged on his hair as he came, a sigh of Zayn’s name leaving his lips. Zayn gripped Harry’s hips then, holding him down as he swallowed around him, pulling off slowly. He ran his tongue over his lower lip before he followed the same path with the back of his hand, his cheeks flushed, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Christ,” Harry breathed out, chest rising and falling heavily.

Zayn smiled, crawling up the length of Harry’s body to curl against his side. “Was that okay?”

“No,” Harry said with a scoff. “Worst blowjob ever. I think there should be an award for how horrible that was.”

Zayn laughed, tracing his fingertips over Harry’s abdomen, around his nipples, across the stupid butterfly-slash-moth tattoo that he was growing to love. “I’m glad it was worthy of _some_ kind of an award,” he mused.

Harry smiled, sliding his fingers through Zayn’s hair again. “You’re wonderful. It was wonderful. It should definitely happen again.”

“That would work for me,” Zayn told him, reaching for Harry’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Harry tried to pull away but Zayn didn’t let him; he ran his fingertips over the gauze thoughtfully. It would heal soon enough, at least physically, and things would change, just a little.

“I like you,” Harry said quietly, almost inaudible to Zayn since his ear was resting against Harry’s chest, right above his heart. And Harry realized that Zayn was maybe a little bit like sand, filtering into his life and slowly filling up all of the spaces, voids, and gaps that had been left behind. Something constant that had stuck with him, and maybe he was in love—absolutely, positively, potentially in love with Zayn and his golden eyes, toothy grin, fluffy hair, and strong arms that made Harry feel as if nothing in the world could ever hurt him, not again. 

Zayn smiled. “I like you, too.”

Harry sucked in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “Good.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Zayn started hesitantly. “My album’s done.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked with a smile. “When’s it coming out?”

Zayn lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “A month or so. I have to do some promo, some photo shoots, all that boring stuff—“

“Oh, yes, photo shoots, your life is _so_ boring,” Harry teased with a grin.

“It is!” Zayn insisted with a laugh. “But that’s not what I was wondering. Would you go to my release party with me?” he asked.

Harry stilled. “You… You want me to go to the release party?”

“As my boy—date,” Zayn said with a nod. “As my date.”

“As your date or as your boyfriend?”

Zayn shrugged. “Both?”

Harry laughed softly. “You… You want me to go?”

Zayn nodded.

“But I’ll look—“

“Very fit in a suit,” Zayn finished for him. “Will you go?”

Harry chewed on his lower lip, thinking it over for a solid two minutes. He didn’t count but—it was probably two minutes. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

Zayn smiled and leaned up, pressing his lips against Harry’s jaw. “Brilliant.”


End file.
